


looking at you, looking right back

by homelywenchsociety



Series: the other a-team [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Elections, Emotional Incompetence, F/M, Getting Together, Journalism, Love Confessions, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, TV News, alternate universe - the newsroom fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homelywenchsociety/pseuds/homelywenchsociety
Summary: Cassian Andor buys a book, deals with a lawsuit and a Presidential election, and finally talks about his feelings.[AKA Jyn and Cassian and Season 2 of The Newsroom]





	looking at you, looking right back

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the much anticipated follow-up to my Newsroom AU! Okay, maybe I'm the only one who was actually anticipating this, but it's here anyway. I've been writing this thing basically since the moment I posted the first part and, if you're keeping track at home, it took me almost as long to write this as it takes most people to GROW AN ENTIRE HUMAN IN THEIR BODY. Honestly, writing this fic felt like giving birth at times: uncomfortable, emotionally trying, and I cried a lot. But it's here now, and I'm actually quite proud of it. Just like how I assume having an actual baby is. So, I hope you like it too, and that any of you who asked me to write a part two on the first one are satisfied with how I wrapped things up.
> 
> A few notes, real quick:
> 
> 1) the dates in this fic line up with the year 2016, rather than 2012, like in the actual tv show of The Newsroom. It made more sense to me this way, for a variety of reasons, BUT, it's obviously a fictional alternate universe, blah blah blah. Anyway, I want to discourage anyone from trying to talk politics with me in the comments, I will probably cry, just please don't do it.  
> 2) I use "Scarif" as a stand-in for the Genoa storyline from The Newsroom. If you haven't seen the show, I don't think it's really confusing but, just in case, all it refers to is a news story that ends up being fake and the network has to retract it.  
> 3) The "Jamaica" Jyn refers to at some point is the neighborhood in Queens, NY at the end of the E and F train, not the island nation in the Caribbean, which, to my knowledge, is not accessible by New York City transit.  
> 4) I am neither a journalist, nor an economist, and thus everything I say about those subjects, or any others, should be taken with a block of salt.  
> 5) This fic would literally not exist without the support and cheerleading of my dear friend and muse, [CrimsonPetrichor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonPetrichor/works), who did not let me give up on this idea even when it was beating me up and taking my lunch money. She literally watched the entirety of The Newsroom in the time it took me to write this and her encouragement made this thing possible and I love her for it and for many other reasons.  
> 6) Title is from HAIM again, because "Little of Your Love" is #3 on my Spotify Wrapped for this year and, honestly, they deserve it.
> 
> ANYWAY, sorry for all the notes, thank you for reading, bye.

**Wednesday, November 9, 1:08 AM**

 

Cassian pushes the door to the studio open with maybe more force than is strictly necessary. He’s honestly amazed he has the energy to be in a bad mood at this point, given that he’s had maybe eight hours of sleep collectively over the last week and they’ve been doing non-stop election coverage on air since this afternoon. He’s pretty sure he ate dinner at some point, but on his life, he couldn’t say what it was or if he enjoyed it at all. 

 

Bursting into the back hallway behind the studio, his loud entrance startles apart a couple of junior staff members who look surprised and annoyed at his interruption. Given how close they were standing, Cassian can hazard a guess as to why they wouldn’t be happy to see him. Although he doesn’t understand how anyone can feel particularly amorous when faced with another four years under a president he considers to be a tyrannical despot, so maybe he’s not happy to see them either.

 

He brushes past them, mentally listing everything he hates about existence, including but not limited to: employee fraternization in the office, Orson Krennic and his rapidly multiplying lawsuits against the network and its staff, how goddamn long it’s going to take him to get back to his apartment in Queens tonight, corruption in politics, fascism, and the headache he’s pretty sure he’s starting to get at this very moment. He’s beginning to run out of steam when he spots Poe Dameron at the other end of the hallway, heading in his direction. When he sees Cassian approaching, he stops and waits.

 

“Great work tonight,” Poe says, when they’ve met in the middle. “You and Leia were on fire.”

 

“Thank you,” Cassian replies, by rote. He thinks about returning the compliment, but he can’t remember seeing Poe all night, and thus cannot come up with anything for which to praise him. Cassian knows he was around, but he has no idea what he was actually doing.

 

“I’m glad the network didn’t accept any of your resignations,” Poe says, earnestly, clearly not bothered by Cassian’s less than effusive response. “I don’t know what we’d do without you here.”

 

“You’d survive.”

 

“Scarif was a mistake, Cassian, but we all share in that responsibility—”

 

He holds up a hand to stop Poe in his tracks. “The senior staff—myself, Leia, Han, all of us—are the people who are supposed to take the fall for massive fuck-ups when they occur,” he says. “Not interns and associate producers. Not you.”

 

“And that’s very honorable of you. Really, it does you credit. But I’d rather work with you than replace you,” Poe says, seriously.

 

“That’s actually very sweet,” Cassian says, taken aback.

 

“I mean, one day I’ll replace you,” he adds. “Just not yet. I’m still so young and full of potential. Unlike you.”

 

“Oh, good. For a second there I was worried I was starting to like you, Dameron.”

 

Poe flashes his cinema star smile at that, and Cassian rolls his eyes.

 

“Where were you off to, anyway?” He asks, moving to continue past where Poe is standing.

 

“I was looking for you.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Well, I was looking for an excuse to leave the bullpen, and no one had seen you in a while, and so I volunteered to find you.” Poe falls into step with Cassian as he says this, even though it means heading back towards the bullpen from which he so recently escaped.

 

“Who was looking for me?” Cassian asks coolly, even though he can feel how the question makes his pulse jump.

 

“Leia, Han, you know. Everybody,” Poe says, shrugging, and Cassian’s heart rate evens out. Or maybe it drops in disappointment. There’s no way of knowing. 

 

“There’s champagne,” Poe adds, as an afterthought, probably trying to tempt Cassian into the bullpen.

 

“That explains a lot,” Cassian says, grumpily, thinking of the junior staff canoodling a few feet behind him.

 

“Alcohol plus sleep deprivation are apparently quite the aphrodisiac,” Poe agrees, looking blatantly behind them and not even bothering to be subtle about it. “That and the relief at no one being fired over Scarif, and people are basically acting like it’s the end of the world.”

 

“Not one for the bacchanal, Dameron? I gotta say, I’m surprised.”

 

“Is that your way of saying you think I’m fun?” Poe asks, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“It’s my way of saying I think  _ you _ think you’re fun, which is different,” Cassian replies. “Why were you trying to get away from the celebration?”

 

Poe shrugs in an ungainly manner. “Just not in the mood for it, I guess,” he says, looking at the floor.

 

“You’re not still in love with Leia, are you?”

 

“God, no,” Poe says, with a snort. “I mean, in the sense that everyone everywhere is a little in love with Leia all the time, I do love her. But I’m not  _ in love  _ with  _ Leia _ , no.”

 

“So, who are you in love with?”

 

“I’m not—” Poe sputters. “Some of us have other stuff going on besides being romantically incompetent!” He accompanies this defensive statement by gesturing at Cassian, which he probably deserves but he’s offended by, nonetheless.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Sorry,” Poe says, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s just, there is so much going on. With the election coverage, and the Scarif story, and the lawsuit, and Han and Leia getting engaged. I feel like my brain is gonna short circuit.”

 

It’s probably a testament to how much shit has happened at the network just in the last eight hours that Poe doesn’t even mention the incident with Cassian and Jyn. With everything else that’s happened, maybe everyone will just forget about it. He should really thank Leia for that, or Han. Whoever is responsible for their spontaneous and insane engagement in the middle of election night coverage.

 

“You should go home. Get some sleep,” Cassian says, to Poe, just as he’s pushing open the door that leads into the bullpen. 

 

It’s a thousand times brighter in here than in the hallway behind the studio, which is normal, but it’s also packed with people drinking heavily and all talking loudly and at once, which is less normal. There’s confetti all over the floor, and everywhere Cassian looks there’s clusters of staff members deep in conversation, clinging to each other and laughing deliriously. 

 

On the far side of the room, Han and Leia are standing in the middle of a crowd of people, holding their own champagne glasses and basking in the congratulations of their friends and co-workers. Leia, for her part, looks bewildered and her smile is so wide it’s probably hurting her face to keep it up. Han is next to her, with an arm around her shoulders, boisterously telling the story of the engagement that happened—to the astonishment of everyone—during a commercial break in the network’s coverage of the election results.

 

Cassian can’t hear a word Han is saying, but he punctuates whatever he’s just told the crowd around them by raising Leia’s hand and showing off her ring, to much  _ ooh _ -ing from their audience. Leia looks up at her fiancé, then, with a wry expression and shakes her head and Han looks back at her with an absolutely goofy smile. Leia looks away, rolling her eyes, and makes eye contact with Cassian across the room. Her eyebrows draw together and she steps forward, but Cassian looks away.

 

“Are you going to congratulate them?” Poe asks, having seen this entire interaction.

 

“When the crowd thins out a little,” Cassian replies, turning his attention back towards Poe. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” Poe says, obviously thinking of everyone’s rejected resignations, and, in one smooth motion, stops a passing intern and slips the plastic flutes of champagne out of her hands. “Thanks,” he says, to Rey, while passing off one of the drinks to Cassian.

 

“Hey, those were mine,” Rey says, whirling around to menace Poe.

 

“You’re not old enough to drink, anyway,” Cassian says, and she glares at him too, for good measure. If he was allowed to have a favorite intern, Rey would be it, he thinks. She’s fiercely talented, terrifyingly competent, loves to learn new things, but she’s way too intense and has never met an emotion she can actually handle, aside from rage. If the network doesn’t hire her after she graduates from college, Cassian might just adopt her. 

 

“Finn is, though,” she says, defensively.

 

“Both of the glasses were for him?” Cassian asks, innocently, delighted to be annoying her. 

 

“Yeah,” Rey says, crossing her arms. “He’s a lush.”

 

“Well, then, I’m glad Poe confiscated them. We’re saving him from himself.” Cassian punctuates this by taking a sip of her drink. 

 

Rey rolls her eyes at him and stalks off in annoyance, but he can see the smile small she’s trying to hold back with limited success as she goes off in search of more champagne. Halfway across the room, she runs into Finn, and clearly tells him what happened, from the way Finn looks over towards where Cassian and Poe are standing. Cassian raises his glass towards Finn, in a mock cheers, and Finn just shakes his head in amusement before mumbling something to Rey and going off on his own, presumably to get them new drinks to replace their stolen ones.

 

When Cassian turns away from this scene, he catches Poe still looking in their direction with a wistful, almost pained expression. Suddenly, his desire to escape the party is making a lot more sense.

 

“Not the intern, Dameron,” Cassian says. “Really?”

 

“Really what?” Poe asks, pulling his attention back to Cassian with some effort. 

 

“That’s who you’re pining after?”

 

“No. No, I’m not pining. That is not what’s happening. I mean, I love Finn. And Rey! They’re the best! But they’re interns and they’re, you know, young and just starting out in the world.”

 

“These are all excellent points.”

 

“And you know I’d never take advantage of a relationship like that,” Poe says, his slightly distracted tone from before gone now that he’s focusing on Cassian instead. “If I had feelings for one of them, in particular, I mean. Which I don’t.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I know that there is a line. And that they’re here to learn and I’m supposed to be a mentor to them. And that’s not a responsibility I take lightly.”

 

“Hey, I know that,” Cassian says, putting a hand on Poe’s shoulder.

 

“Right,” Poe says, taking a long drink of his champagne. “Right, and it’s just that this job is crazy. I mean, the hours fucking suck and it’s very intense all the time. So, it’s hard to meet people outside of work, and then everyone who works here gets what it’s like and everyone’s so smart that you’re like, what’s the point of ever looking anywhere else? You know?”

 

“I do know, yes.”

 

“So you convince yourself that every person here is the love of your life, just because they’re smart and interesting and don’t get mad when you take a day to text them back because they’re just as busy as you are. But you also want to be professional, so you can’t just date every single smart, attractive person you meet here. You’ve gotta be careful, because you don’t want to be that guy, you know, around the office.”

 

“That’s...true.”

 

“But everybody around you feels the same way, and they’re all hooking up, while you’re stuck being a responsible adult. And so, you get to be alone and watch your super cool interns fall in love right in front of your stupid, responsible eyes and because you love them both, you’re happy for them. But it still sucks, you know? The being alone part, I mean.”

 

Cassian just blinks at this speech from Poe, unsure what to say or how he even got himself into this situation in the first place. “It does suck,” he finally answers, since that seems to be most of what Poe wants to hear.

 

It must do the trick, because Poe nods thoughtfully as he stares down into his champagne flute. He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, looking exhausted.

 

“You should go home and get some sleep,” Cassian adds, squeezing Poe’s shoulder with the hand he still has resting there. “It’s been a really long...”

 

“Day?” Poe suggests, amused.

 

“I was going to say that, yeah, but honestly? It’s been a long year.” 

 

Poe laughs at that. “It certainly has.”

 

“I can’t promise sleep will make any of it better, but it can’t hurt,” Cassian says, and he can’t honestly believe he’s giving Poe Dameron romantic advice right now, at one in the morning on Election Night, especially when he’s so spectacularly unqualified to speak on this subject. “I think all of us are just trying to make it through this, and it’s easy to want to cling to someone else rather than deal with your own problems. But you’re doing the right thing, no matter how much it sucks. And I’m proud of you.”

 

Poe looks astonished by what Cassian’s just said, probably because they are much more comfortable giving each other shit than praising each other. It’s just their dynamic; Leia treats Poe like a son, Cassian treats him like an annoying younger brother. But Cassian also knows how lonely this job can be, can relate to everything Poe said about being surrounded by intelligent, interesting people whose schedules suck as much as yours does and confusing that for being in love with them. When he was Poe’s age, working at Newsweek, he felt the same way. But the answer to that is not sleeping with all of their co-workers, especially not the interns, and he’s relieved he doesn’t seem to need to explain that to Poe. 

 

“Thanks,” Poe says, faintly. “I just feel so old sometimes. I worry about...how many chances I might have missed, putting this job first.”

 

Cassian takes another drink of champagne, buying himself a moment to think of a response to that. “You’re not old, Dameron,” he finally says.

 

“Well, sure, compared to you…”

 

“You’ve got plenty of time,” Cassian continues, undeterred, but giving him an arch look nonetheless. “And plenty of opportunities ahead of you. Don’t let all of this get you down.”

 

Poe nods into his champagne flute. “Okay,” he says, sounding just barely convinced.

 

“Seriously, get out of here and get some sleep. I’ll make your excuses to Leia, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“No, I’ve already congratulated her and Han. She’d probably tell me to go home herself, anyway.” With that, Poe drains the rest of his champagne in one go and hands the empty flute to Cassian. “Good talk,” he says, nodding once solemnly.

 

“Let’s never speak of it again,” Cassian adds.

 

“Deal,” Poe says, and offers his hand to Cassian. They shake on it, say their goodbyes, and Poe starts to make his way through the crowd, towards the exit.

 

Before he can even miss Poe’s company, Cassian feels someone walk up behind him.

 

“I know it’s been a rough few months, Cassian, but do you really need a drink in  _ each _ hand?” Mon asks him as he turns to look at her.

 

“It’s more of a ‘I might have talked one of your employees out of having an affair with an intern and all I got was this empty champagne flute’ situation, ma’am,” he says, sardonically.

 

Mon winces at that. “If only I could get HR to care about what happens on this floor. But I think they’ve given up on the News Division as a lost cause,” she says, looking glum.

 

“Who can blame them?” Cassian asks, gesturing at the revelry going on around them.

 

“Yes, well, I suppose if I didn’t want something like this to happen, I shouldn’t have hired Han’s former girlfriend to be his E.P.”

 

“You expected this?”

 

“I thought it would either end with them married, or with them killing each other,” Mon says, solemnly.

 

“Well, they’re not married yet,” Cassian reminds her.

 

“You’re right. There’s still hope they might kill each other.”

 

Cassian laughs at that. “Are you enjoying the festivities?” He asks.

 

“I am. It’s nice to have my staff celebrating a victory for once, and to have everyone together,” Mon says, looking fondly around the room.

 

Cassian thinks, unhelpfully, of the lawsuit they’re still dealing with from Krennic, and how there’s still a cloud over the proceedings because of that. Not to mention that they’ve got another four years of the Palpatine administration to look forward to. Although, maybe no one else is thinking about that. Maybe they’re just enjoying the moment—the end of election coverage regardless of the results, the engagement of their friends, and everyone getting to keep their jobs are certainly things worth celebrating, after all. Maybe he should lighten up.

 

“I take it you’re not?” Mon asks, probably thinking the same thing as she gestures at his still-full champagne glass. She looks concerned, but Cassian doesn’t feel like having another heart-to-heart about office romances tonight.

 

“I think, given how little sleep I’ve gotten recently, I might already be legally drunk,” he says, playing it off. “Adding alcohol to that doesn’t seem like the answer.”

 

“That’s very sensible of you,” Mon replies, with a twinkle in her eye that tells him she thinks he’s full of shit.

 

“Speaking of, I think I’m going to head home. It’s going to take me a while, and I need the sleep…”

 

“Of course. We’ll need you well-rested for tomorrow.”

 

“Right. Tomorrow,” Cassian says, bleakly. “You don’t suppose there’s any chance there won’t be any news worth reporting tomorrow and we can all just take a break, do you?”

 

“If only,” Mon says, smiling in that tired way of hers.

 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so either,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Mon,” he adds, as he turns to walk away.

 

“Oh, Cassian?” Mon calls, before he gets too far from her.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I do hope you’re feeling alright otherwise,” she says. When he just stares at her in confusion, she continues. “No bruising, I hope?”

 

“Bruising?” He asks, at a loss.

 

“I hear Jyn hit you rather hard with a very large book. I hope she didn’t leave a mark.”

 

Cassian opens his mouth to respond, but no words come to him. “I… It’s not—” 

 

Mon holds up a hand to interrupt him. “Like I said, HR has given up on our department,” she says, and there’s something mischievous about her smile now. “So don’t let that get in the way of what’s going to make you happy.”

 

“Thank you,” Cassian says, still not sure what he’s supposed to say or do in this conversation. “Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight, Cassian.”

 

**Monday, October 24, 9:18 PM**

 

“Listen, we sent him the questions ahead of time, so don’t let him equivocate on them. He’s had the chance to prepare, he should have answers ready.”

 

“I know,” Draven says, checking his email on his phone and not even looking at Cassian. “I have done this before, you know.”

 

“I’m aware of that. But you’ve also been going easy on guests during your interviews lately,” Cassian says.

 

“I have not!”

 

“You have, actually, so I’m warning you this time. Don’t let this guy off the hook.”

 

“Listen, I don’t think—”

 

Cassian is spared from Draven’s tirade by Jyn and Han entering the dressing room already embroiled in a screaming match.

 

“Listen, sweetheart, I was just trying to give you a reasonable explanation,” Han is yelling as he follows Jyn into the room.

 

Jyn stops just long enough to kick off each of her heels and send them flying into the wall. This move costs her about four inches of height, but, when she whirls back around to stare down Han, she looks no less intimidating. Cassian doesn’t know how she does it.

 

“First of all, fuck you,” Jyn begins, pointing a finger at Han. “Second of all, that is the third time you’ve called me ‘sweetheart’ tonight and, if you do it again, I’m gonna break each of your knuckles one-by-one and then hobble you, for good measure. And thirdly, there is no reasonable explanation for this, except that the network is sexist.”

 

“Hey, we’re trying to have a meeting here,” Cassian puts in, raising his voice slightly and gesturing between himself and Draven.

 

“Fuck you, too,” Jyn snaps, looking over her shoulder at him.

 

“I take it your segment went poorly,” he responds, mildly.

 

“The segment was fine, as always,” Han says. “This is about something else.”

 

“Then either enlighten us or go away,” Draven says, looking bored. Cassian’s always admired the man’s commitment to being above the workplace drama that’s constantly unfolding around him. The lone actual adult in a sea of overworked and sleep deprived people with the emotional maturity of toddlers.

 

“What are you contributing for the hurricane relief fundraiser?” Jyn asks him, arms crossed over her chest.

 

“The highest bidder gets to read the headlines at the top of the show for one night,” Draven says.

 

“They do?” Cassian asks, bewildered. When Draven just nods in response, he asks, “Wasn’t anyone going to consult me about this?”

 

“Of course not. They knew you’d say no,” Draven answers, simply. “What are you two offering?”

 

“Han is going to play a round of golf with the highest bidder,” Jyn says, rolling her eyes.

 

“You play golf?” Cassian asks, surprised.

 

“I learned years ago, to impress Leia’s dad,” Han replies, looking grim. “I still go every once in a while, mostly when Luke and Lando are in town. But I suck at it, so it’ll make some New York City fat cat very happy to pay to beat me at golf.” He adds, to Jyn, “You see? We’re all making sacrifices!”

 

“They’re not even in the same league,” Jyn shouts.

 

“What is going on?” Cassian asks, rapidly losing his patience.

 

“The network execs want all of the ‘on-air talent’ to offer something for the fundraiser, to bring in money for hurricane relief. And they’ve given us all suggestions of what our offers should be,” Jyn explains. 

 

“And the rest of us have accepted our punishments with grace,” Han interjects.

 

“Only one of us is being asked to go on a date with some rich stranger,” Jyn fires back.

 

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad,” Draven says, and Jyn flips him off.

 

“I’m still lost,” Cassian says.

 

“The network wants me to auction off the opportunity to go on a date with me,” Jyn says, her expression sour.

 

“Are you kidding me?!”

 

“You see?” Jyn says to Han, gesturing at Cassian.

 

“Like I said, we’re all making sacrifices,” Han begins, nonplussed by Cassian’s reaction. “You think Draven wants some bozo on his show reading the news? You think I want to play golf with some bourgeois asshole? Of course not! But we’re being accommodating, for fuck’s sake!”

 

“Sorry, I’m having trouble formulating a response,” Jyn says, putting a hand to her forehead. “I’m too impressed you know what the word ‘bourgeois’ means.”

 

“Bite me, Erso,” Han snaps.

 

“You even pronounced it correctly!”

 

“I’m serious. You’ve got nothing to complain about.”

 

“It’s completely different. Date auctions are creepy, and debasing. And they’re only asking me because I’m a woman,” Jyn says, hotly.

 

“No, they’re asking you because you’re an  _ attractive _ woman,” Han explains. 

 

“That’s worse!”

 

“I don’t see how.”

 

“I’m a serious journalist! I’ve got two PhDs in economics! They’re treating me like a bimbo!” Jyn looks to Cassian and Draven for support, only to find them watching her and Han like spectators at a particularly interesting tennis match.

 

“They’re trying to bring in as much money as possible. It’s for a good cause, don’t be such a tight ass,” Han says, with a shrug.

 

“I’m not being a—!” Jyn breaks off with a snarl and looks heavenward, as if she’s praying for the strength not to murder Han. “Why can’t these people just donate some money, without getting anything in return?” She grumbles.

 

“Have you ever met a rich person?” Cassian asks.

 

“Oh, so now you have an opinion,” Jyn says, caustically.

 

“I agree with you, of course,” Cassian says, shrugging.

 

“Ha! And so does Leia,” Jyn says, turning back to Han.

 

“Leia agrees that, in principle, it’s a bad thing to do,” Han corrects her. “But, in this particular case, she still thinks you should suck it up and do it anyway.”

 

“What?! Why would she think that?”

 

“Because she thinks you need to get laid,” Han answers, exasperated. “We all do.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Cassian says, stepping between them as he sees Jyn reach for a can of hairspray behind her. He doesn’t want to wait and see what she’s going to do to Han with it. “That’s enough. Han, I think you’ve helped enough for the night.”

 

“Well, I was—”

 

“No, thank you. That’ll do. See you tomorrow,” Cassian says, cutting him off.

 

Han seems to take the hint and leaves the dressing room, whistling smugly. Draven, too, recognizes that Jyn will probably do better talking to Cassian alone, and quietly heads out for the studio, giving Cassian a significant look before he goes that Cassian doesn’t have the energy to analyze the meaning of.

 

When he’d stepped between her and Han, Cassian had put his hands on Jyn’s shoulders to keep her in place. As soon as Han leaves, Jyn drops her head into her hands and her shoulders sag in defeat. Cassian keeps his hands where they are and rubs his thumbs back and forth over her shoulders, trying to be soothing. The movement bunches the stiff fabric of her shirt, making waves appear in the white cotton. He focuses on this, gets distracted by it instead of thinking about pulling Jyn closer, into a real embrace, because that would be a bad idea. Even thinking about it is a bad idea. Physical affection isn’t a thing they do, and they’re not going to start now, not after what Han just said. It would absolutely not help anyone if Cassian were to pull Jyn into his arms. She doesn’t need that, and neither does he.

 

Jyn sighs, and he doesn’t think about it, doesn’t think about anything. “I’m gonna kill Han,” she says, more to his shirt than to his face, and Cassian almost chokes on the relieved laugh that bubbles up in his throat.

 

“I’ll help you hide the body,” he says.

 

“I know,” she says, and they’re quiet for a moment. “Am I really being a killjoy?” She asks, softly, as if she doesn’t even want Cassian to hear her.

 

“No,” Cassian replies, and she pulls back to look at him fully. 

 

“You’re just saying that to placate me.” 

 

“I think you know me better than that,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders just a little too late to actually be considered casual. “Since when do I lie to make you feel better?”

 

“You almost never lie to me, as far as I can tell,” Jyn admits. She’s giving what he said too much consideration, as far as he’s concerned, and that’s never a good sign. “You do have this way of twisting the truth to suit your purposes, though,” she adds.

 

“Do I?” Cassian asks, and he feels like he’s on uncertain ground with this conversation. “Isn’t that just another way of saying that I lie?”

 

“No, because technically what you’re actually saying is true, but it’s just not the entire truth, you know?”

 

“I don’t. What the fuck are you even saying?” He asks, trying to keep his tone light, like they’re just teasing each other.

 

“Like right now. I asked you if you thought I was being a killjoy about the fundraiser and you said no. And I think that’s the truth,” Jyn says, and Cassian ignores how attractive he finds her when she gets that academic,  _ let’s-test-your-hypothesis _ kind of tone in her voice that she must use with her students during her lectures. “But I also think you’re going to tell me I should do what the network wants me to do, anyway.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Really?” Jyn asks, her eyes rounding in astonishment, and goddammit, that’s cute too. 

 

“Really. But, just out of curiosity, what did you think I’d say in defense of this date auction idea?” Cassian asks, putting a great deal of effort into keeping his expression neutral.

 

Jyn rolls her eyes at the question. “You know, I feel like you’re about to prove me right.”

 

“That’s the last thing that I want,” Cassian says. “You’re insufferable when you’re right.”

 

Jyn laughs at that, and he can see the tension in her shoulders ease, just a little. She crosses her arms over her chest, and thinks over her response. “You would say,” she begins, slowly, “That I shouldn’t let Han have the last laugh and I should show him that I can be fun and not take myself too seriously. That agreeing would prove that I wasn’t scared off by the idea of some stranger bidding on the opportunity to take me out on a date. That it would make the network happy, and that would be beneficial to me in the long run. And then you’d say it’s for charity and I should suck it up and deal.”

 

Cassian is about to respond, when Jyn continues, “But of course your argument ignores the fact that, if I did let them auction off a date with me, it would be the height of vanity and it would also make them very little money, which would be an embarrassment for everyone involved, but particularly for me.”

 

“God, you don’t actually believe that, do you?” Cassian asks, unable to stop himself from laughing.

 

“Which part?”

 

“That you wouldn’t raise any money.”

 

“I absolutely do,” Jyn says, defensively. It just makes him laugh again. “Who on earth would want to pay to go on a date with me?!”

 

“I don’t know, anyone with eyes?” Cassian suggests. “And probably a few people without them.”

 

“Don’t say that just to—”

 

“Make you feel better?” He asks, sounding a bit hysterical to his own ears. “We’ve been over this and you know I wouldn’t.”

 

Jyn doesn’t have a response to that, he notices. Instead, she stands there in the dressing room, looking like she’s trying to do calculus in her head. Actually, that might be easier for her than dealing with someone complimenting her. Finally, after a few moments of deliberation, she asks, “So you  _ do _ think I should do it?”

 

Cassian laughs, not so much out of amusement as intense frustration. “No, not at all,” he says.

 

“Because it’s degrading? And creepy?”

 

“Yes. And because you’re uncomfortable with the idea, and it’s putting you in a somewhat risky situation,” Cassian says, and Jyn nods at each of his points, looking at her feet. “But, honestly, the real reason I don’t think you should agree to it has nothing to do with you.”

 

Jyn’s head shoots up at that, and she gives him a searching look. “What are you talking about?” She asks.

 

“If you agreed to this, and really ended up going on a date with somebody from the auction, I would be a nervous wreck the whole time. I wouldn’t get any work done,” he says, watching her carefully. Her expression is one of pure shock, her mouth opening in a tiny “o” and Cassian wishes she hadn’t stepped back from him before. He wishes she was still close enough to put his arms around her. 

 

“I could text you that I got home safely. Afterwards,” Jyn says, regaining the power of speech with some effort.

 

“That’s not what I’d be worried about,” Cassian says, and she snorts in disbelief. “That’s not  _ all _ I’d be worried about,” he amends, and earns himself a puzzled look from Jyn. “It was bad enough when you went out with Leia’s brother.”

 

“That was months ago,” Jyn says, sharply. “What does that have to do with—?”

 

She never gets the chance to finish her question, because that’s the moment Draven chooses to pop back into the dressing room, and declare loudly, “Alright, Andor, we’ve got a show to do. Is everything sorted?”

 

“Well, actually, we were just—”

 

“All sorted,” Jyn says, cutting Cassian off. When he looks at her, it’s like a wall has gone up. He wouldn’t have the slightest clue how she was feeling, if it weren’t for the obvious tension in her shoulders. As if following his glance, Jyn drops her hands to her sides and rolls her neck. “I’m going to donate a signed copy of my book for the auction.”

 

“That’ll really bring in the money,” Draven says, drily. “After all, nothing’s sexier than a thousand-page discussion of wartime economics.”

 

“Depends on who you’re talking to, I guess,” Cassian says, earnestly, just to piss Jyn off. Judging by the warning look she sends him, he succeeds.

 

“Save your money, Draven,” Jyn says, with a scowl. “I’ll give you a copy for free.” 

 

And, with that, she stalks out of the room without sparing either of them a second glance.

 

**Wednesday, November 9, 1:22 AM**

 

Cassian makes his way to his office through the endless sea of drunk staffers. He’s fairly certain that he left his wallet and keys in his desk drawer and he’s completely certain he needs those items before he can actually go home. He tries, with limited success, not to think about what Mon just said to him, and the fact that she probably knows everything that happened with him and Jyn tonight because the story has already made its way through the entire staff by now. The only reassurance he can find in any of it is that most of the staff are probably so distracted by their own workplace relationships, given what he witnessed in the bullpen, that they will be too busy to gossip any more about his relationship with Jyn.

 

Finding the coldest of comfort in this, he retreats into the merciful silence of his office. Inside, he finds his jacket draped over the chair in front of his desk, and while he’s double checking that his keys aren’t in the pockets, he suddenly remembers that he did, in fact, eat dinner, because he ate in his office with Jyn while they talked about voting trends in women across socioeconomic lines. No sooner does he remember this than he hears someone clear their throat from behind him and, as if she’s been conjured by his memory, he knows it’s Jyn.

 

He turns to look at her and finds her leaning in the doorway, hesitating as if she’s not sure she’s allowed to venture any further. He opens his mouth to say something—to tell her to come in, or maybe something cooler than that—but, as always, she beats him to the punch.

 

“I hear you’re getting sued,” Jyn says, in the same tone he’d expect her to use if she was talking about the weather.

 

Cassian deflates, all anticipation and nerves going out of him at once. “It’s not a big deal. Technically, I was already being sued.”

 

“No, the network was being sued and—”

 

“And I’m a part of the network.”

 

“Krennic is suing you, separately and personally, for defamation. Because you gave him an aggressively bad reference for a job after he was fired,” Jyn says, and she’s putting on a big show of speaking slowly and patiently when she’s clearly ready to scream at him. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

 

“Clearly, I didn’t have to. You already know as much as I do about it,” Cassian says, easily, but he can feel himself getting angry too. And, maybe, just maybe, there’s a little guilt mixed in there as well.

 

“What is it with you and withholding information from me?” Jyn asks, and she’s apparently done being patient with him.

 

“Was I supposed to come pull you off the air, in the middle of Election Night coverage, to tell you about some pathetic lawsuit from Krennic?” Cassian asks, disbelieving. “I didn’t tell anyone, Jyn. We were all dealing with shit that actually mattered!”

 

“If you didn’t tell anyone, how does everyone know about it?”

 

“Because no one here knows how to mind their own goddamn business!”

 

There’s really no disagreeing with that, and Jyn must know it from the way she throws her arms up in frustration. She turns slightly away from him, and Cassian knows from arguing with her almost constantly that she’s regrouping, trying to figure out how best to get him to admit that he’s wrong.

 

“You still should have told me,” she says, quietly, after a moment. It’s a weak move, coming from her. Normally she’s better on the offensive than this. Maybe she really is hurt. “I’ve known Krennic the longest out of anyone here. I need to know when he’s being an asshole to you,” she adds, more firmly this time.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m responsible for the damage he’s done here. I should have made sure they never hired him. I knew he was awful, and I shouldn’t have shut up about it until Leia paid attention to me.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Cassian says, more quietly than he meant to. It feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. “You’re not responsible for his actions, Jyn. He is.”

 

“I know, but,” she says, pausing in frustration, “I could have done more to limit the damage. And now he’s suing you and I had to hear about it from Taidu!”

 

“Taidu told you?! He’s in D.C., how did he even hear about it?”

 

“How should I know?” Jyn snaps. “But I’m glad he did, because you were certainly never going to tell me.”

 

“What good would it have done?” Cassian asks, struggling to keep his voice down, to stay calm in the face of Jyn’s irritation.

 

“I would have heard it from you.”

 

“And?”

 

“And I would have known that—that it mattered to  _ you _ that I knew,” she says, struggling over her words in a way he’s not used to from her. It must be odd for her too, because she frowns when she’s finished talking, as though she’s not satisfied by what she’s said.

 

“I would have told you,” Cassian insists. “I was just waiting for the right moment. When the madness had died down.”

 

“Sure, just like you told me about the book,” Jyn says, rolling her eyes.

 

“You were never supposed to know about the book!”

 

“And you wonder why I don’t trust you to tell me things!”

 

“This is different!” Cassian shouts, frustrated. “I would have told you about the lawsuit, but I didn’t want to ruin Leia and Han’s whole engagement celebration with bad news. And I know you’re as exhausted as I am, so I thought I’d wait to upset you. I was being considerate.”

 

“And what were you being when you didn’t tell me about the book?” Jyn asks, and he should have seen that question coming. He walked right into it. 

 

“I was being...a good friend,” he says, hesitantly. He feels his shoulders slump even as the words come out of his mouth, that’s how pathetic of an explanation he feels it is.

 

“A good friend?” Jyn repeats, with an eyebrow raised at him in disbelief.

 

“Yes,” Cassian says, doubling down on his stupid answer. “You were worried about not raising any money in the auction, so I bid on your book. So you wouldn’t worry.”

 

“I forgot all about it,” she says, evenly.

 

“Oh,” he replies. After a second, though, he finds he can’t let it go. “You forgot about it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“After you and Han had that huge fight about auctioning off a date? And I had to talk you out of killing him? And you and I had a whole thing about it? You forgot?”

 

“Yes,” Jyn says, as if he’s hopelessly dense. “If Finn hadn’t mentioned it, I would probably never have thought of it again.”

 

“So this is Finn’s fault?” Cassian asks, feeling more justified than ever in stealing that champagne from him earlier.

 

“No, this is your fault,” she says, looking bored. “You’re the one who bought the book.”

 

“I did it anonymously! I used a fake name and everything.”

 

“You used multiple fake names! To invent a bidding war, so that I would think multiple people bid on my book,” Jyn says, gesturing at him emphatically. “And you drove the price up to nearly a thousand dollars! For a book that would cost you thirty dollars on Amazon! And that’s including shipping.”

 

“Do the ones on Amazon have your signature?” He asks.

 

“No, but neither does the one you paid _nearly a_ _thousand dollars_ for!” Jyn shouts.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Rose signed it,” Jyn says, looking at him with enough pity that he’s actually a little offended by it. “I forgot to do it before the auction, apparently she found out and signed it for me, before they had to send it out for the gala.”

 

“But there’s an inscription, in German,” Cassian says, weakly.

 

“She looked it up on Google. It doesn’t actually make any grammatical sense, by the way. I think it roughly translates to ‘I hope the force of this book is with you.’ It’s nonsense.”

 

“I can’t believe this.”

 

“Neither can I,” Jyn says. “You went to that stupid gala and bid on my book and drove up the price using a bunch of pseudonyms, just so I wouldn’t feel bad?”

 

“In my defense, Draven dragged me with him to the gala because neither you or Han could be bothered to put in an appearance and the network wanted  _ someone _ from ACN to show up. I got a little drunk, because the event was boring and full of rich people I didn’t know, and the whole ‘bidding on your book thing’ just happened.”

 

“Not a defense, but okay.”

 

“How is that not a defense?”

 

“‘I was drunk’ is not an excuse that flies with me anymore,” Jyn says, shrugging in way that manages to be casual and full of disdain at the same time. “Maybe if you’d met me when I was 23, it would. But not now.”

 

“I wasn’t ready for you back then,” Cassian says, trying for a teasing tone.

 

“You’re barely ready for me now,” she replies, and, hell, she’s not wrong.

 

Cassian lets that sit for a moment. “How did you figure out it was me?” He finally asks.

 

“Finn looked up the records from the auction, because I wanted to get a copy that I actually signed to the person who bought it,” Jyn says, looking at the ground. She’s always embarrassed to be seen as giving a damn about anything, a leftover from her time working in finance, where she had to be cutthroat to get ahead. Working here has helped with that, as far as Cassian can tell, because everyone else is so painfully earnest all the time, but old habits still die hard.

 

“He recognized the names from the auction as different characters from Hitchcock movies,” she continues. “I spotted that ‘Companion to Alfred Hitchcock’ book on your desk when we were eating dinner. I’m very intelligent and I made the leap.”

 

Cassian rubs his hands over his face and tries not to think about what level of idiocy it takes to leave the book that Kay got him for his birthday out on his desk where Jyn could easily see it. “I’m going to kill Finn,” he says, still not thinking about it.

 

“Don’t do that,” Jyn says, looking exasperated. “He’s been interning here for almost a year and we only just got Han to stop calling him ‘Frat Boy.’ He’s been through enough.”

 

Cassian makes a frustrated noise in response, but says nothing.

 

“And besides,” Jyn continues, ignoring him, “this is your fault for using names from something I could easily find in your office.” 

 

“It was never meant to hold up to this much scrutiny,” Cassian says. He doesn’t admit he was thinking the same thing.

 

“Well, that much is obvious,” she says, unimpressed, and he decides against pointing out how much she sounds like Kay right now. Given the mood she’s in, she’d probably kill him and be done with it. Then again, maybe he should just let her kill him; that might be preferable to having this conversation. 

 

“I’m serious, Jyn,” he says, scowling at her, instead. “I wasn’t trying to leave you clues. You were never supposed to figure out it was me. I didn’t think you’d ever look into who bought the book, I just thought you’d be happy that someone donated money to charity because of you.”

 

“If I had actually signed the book, I would have been.”

 

“So this is your fault, for not signing the book in the first place. Great. Case closed.”

 

“This isn’t  _ my _ fault,” Jyn says, offended.

 

“If you’d just signed the book to begin with, I could have bought it and you’d have heard how much money you raised without the slightest bit of guilt,” Cassian explains. “And then you’d never have gone looking into the buyer and figured out the names were all fake and eventually traced it back to me.”

 

“So the problem isn’t that you lied, it’s that I caught you,” she says, and to anyone else she would sound calm, but Cassian knows her too well. He knows that she’s about to give him a piece of her mind.

 

“I...no,” Cassian says, backpedaling. There’s nothing Jyn hates so much as misplacing her trust in someone. “The problem is that you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

 

Jyn actually snarls at that, turning away from him in frustration. She looks out the door to his office, from which the party going on in the bullpen is just barely visible. The glass walls and door do a sufficient job blocking out most noise, but the sounds of the staff celebrating still reach them, despite how far back from the bullpen Cassian’s office is set. After a few seconds of watching this in silence, Jyn runs a hand through her hair.

 

“You are the only man I can think of who would do something this romantic and refuse to take credit for it,” she says, sounding worn out and hollow. He can hear the smile in her voice too, but he knows that if he could see it, it would be a bitter one, her standard I-should-have-known-better-than-to-get-my-hopes-up expression.

 

“I didn’t do it to be romantic,” he says, without even thinking about it. He’s so used to denying things with her, denying them even to himself, that it just comes naturally.

 

Jyn turns back towards him, and even in the half-light of his darkened office, he can see that she’s hurt. “You didn’t?” She asks, her voice small.

 

“No, I mean—” He stops himself, frustrated. There’s no good way to explain himself. He’s going to offend her no matter what, and there might be no way back. This might be the argument that ends them, the one they never recover from. The idea nearly chokes him, that this could be how he loses her, without ever really having had her to begin with.

 

“I didn’t spend that money so that I could one day lord it over you and use it as leverage to get you into bed,” he says, and really, she thinks  _ he’s _ romantic? 

 

Jyn blinks at him, uncomprehending. “I didn’t think that was your plan,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

 

“I didn’t have a plan, at all,” Cassian says, and just moving one step closer to her takes so much more effort than he was prepared for. “I just couldn’t sit back and do nothing, when you were upset. I thought I was helping.”

 

“You were being a good friend,” Jyn says, not really to him, but almost as if she’s trying to convince herself. “And you just wanted me to be happy.”

 

“Yeah, I want you to be happy,” He says, repeating her words as though he’s in a trance. 

 

This is easy, he thinks, blaming his feelings on friendship. It’s familiar territory that he retreats to constantly, a place he knows all too well. But, in his head, he can also hear what Mon told him.  _ Don’t let that get in the way of what’s going to make you happy _ . Except the company and its policies have never been the things that were standing in his way; the thing standing in his way has always been him.

 

“Well, thank you,” Jyn says, quietly, to the floor. “I’m sorry for what happened, after I found out about the book. It was dramatic and unprofessional, and it won’t happen again.”

 

“If you ever need to throw a copy of your book at me again, at least wait for it to come out in paperback,” Cassian says, trying to bring them back to normal with a joke. 

 

“I didn’t throw it at you,” Jyn says, rolling her eyes. “I pushed it into your chest. Forcefully.”

 

“It still hurt,” he replies, putting a hand to the exact spot on his chest that Jyn had hit with an  _ actual _ signed copy of her book hours ago.

 

She’d stormed into the control room with it, at the exact moment they were about to call the election, and, ignoring Leia’s direction to get her ass onto set where it belonged, Jyn had shoved the book into Cassian’s chest with enough force that he actually stumbled backwards. He was on the point of complaining about whatever injury Jyn had just inflicted on him, when she gave him a smacking kiss on the lips that made him forget all about the pain he was feeling momentarily. Before he could react or reciprocate, Jyn had turned on her heel and stormed right back out the way she came and went back on set as though nothing had happened. If it weren’t for the stunned reactions of all their co-workers in the control room, Cassian could have convinced himself it was all a hallucination, brought on by lack of sleep and stress. But he still has that copy of her book too, sitting on his desk even now, to remind him.

 

“‘Life is pain, Highness,’” Jyn says, now, quoting one of the four movies she’s actually seen in her entire life with a sad shrug. “‘Anyone who says differently—’”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Cassian interrupts, and the smile he gives her is just as sad.

 

They let the silence stretch between them, as it seems neither of them know what to say next. They should probably both take Cassian’s advice to Poe from before and call it a night, given how exhausted and overworked they both are. What they both need is a good night’s rest, so they can come back to work tomorrow— _ today _ , goddammit—and focus on their jobs and not on any of this interpersonal stuff that’s been distracting, well, him, at least.

 

“I, uh,” Jyn starts to say, looking sheepish, “I have Bodhi on damage control, by the way.”

 

“Damage control?” He asks, bewildered. What else could have possibly gone wrong?

 

“For the whole scene in the control room,” she says, looking at her feet. “He’s telling everyone I lost a bet to him.”

 

“You...lost a bet?” Cassian asks, feeling dense.

 

“Yeah, and that’s why I had to barge in there during the broadcast and kiss you in front of everyone.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I just don’t want it to become a thing, with the junior staff. They have enough to gossip about, as it is. I wouldn’t want to put you through that, just because I had a momentary lapse in judgement,” Jyn says, looking as uncomfortable as he’s ever seen her.

 

“Right,” he replies. He wants nothing more than to ask why she kissed him, especially after she threw a book at him, but it doesn’t feel like the best move, at the moment. “That’s good thinking, on your part.”

 

“Well,” Jyn says, trying to shrug it off.

 

“It’s well thinking?” Cassian asks, innocently, just to test the waters.

 

She cracks a smile at that, and it feels like the whole world rights itself for a moment. “You’re an idiot,” she says, still not looking at him.

 

“Believe it or not, I knew that already.”

 

“Speaking of you being an idiot—”

 

“Oh, no…”

 

“What’s going on with you and Leia?” Jyn asks, and it’s maybe the last thing Cassian expected to come out of her mouth.

 

**Friday September 16, 11:45 PM**

 

Cassian walks into the bar a few hours late for drinks with the staff, if the dwindling numbers are any indication. Most of Leia’s crew is already gone, and only a few of his people made it out. It’s one of the perils of working for the show in the ten o’clock slot; you miss out on a lot of social events. It doesn’t usually bother him, it might not even now, it’s just something he thinks about, in situations like this.

 

Baze and Chirrut are there, though, a fact he notices mostly because Jyn is sitting with them, and his eye always goes straight to her in a room. They’re all seated together on some sleek black leather couches in the middle of the room, surrounded by a few other staffers but involved in their own, separate conversation. Jyn’s got her head resting on Baze’s shoulder, and Cassian wonders if it’s because she’s drunk, or tired, or just trying to get closer to Chirrut, who’s talking to her animatedly from Baze’s other side. It’s probably all three at once, he decides when he’s thought about it for a second.

 

He’s debating with himself whether he wants to get a drink and go over to them, as there’s no one else he particularly feels like talking to, when he spots Leia alone in a small booth on the back wall, glaring at her phone. He’d rather talk to Leia than interrupt the happy moment between the others, so once he’s ordered his whiskey, he heads in her direction.

 

“What is it?” He asks, as he slides into the booth next to her.

 

“Another email from the legal team,” Leia says, still frowning, without looking up. “What else is new?”

 

Cassian inclines his glass towards her in a mock-toast she doesn’t acknowledge, and then takes a drink. “Do I even want to know?” He asks, once he’s braced himself.

 

“They need to schedule more depositions with the staffers. Which, a month ago, would have been the kind of bad news that sent me into a tailspin. Now, it’s like neutral news, at worst.” She sets her phone down on the table in front of her, and closes her eyes. She looks tired, but he knows better than to say so.

 

“We’re getting used to it,” Cassian says.

 

“Exactly. It’s the new normal.”

 

“When do you think we’ll get back to the old normal?”

 

Leia blows out a breath, disturbing a few loose tendrils of hair around her face. “I don’t think we will. I think it’s gone. Over. Things might calm down eventually, but there’s no going back.”

 

Cassian can’t help it, he looks over at Jyn again. She’s laughing at something Chirrut just said, resting her arm on the back of the couch so it’s halfway around Baze. “FUBAR,” he says, which makes Leia laugh.

 

“Exactly,” she says, raising her glass to him. She’s drinking a Cosmopolitan, which says something about her mood, though he’s not sure what. “I always forget you were in the military.” She hesitates at the end, like she wants to say  _ too _ , but doesn’t want to annoy him. It wouldn’t, he thinks. She was embedded, she got shot in a war zone. It’s not the same thing as enlisting, as actually being a soldier, but he can appreciate what she went through, probably better than most people. Maybe that’s why she puts up with him.

 

“What makes you say that?” He asks, mostly because he doesn’t want to sit in silence.

 

“You’re not sensitive about it,” she says, then winces. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just not protective of the institution of the military. Politically, I mean.”

 

“It has its issues.”

 

Leia snorts. “That’s putting it mildly.” She pauses, then adds, more gently, “I was worried about bringing Scarif to you.”

 

“You should have been more worried,” Cassian says, and watches Leia deflate. “We all should have been,” he adds, to make his meaning more clear.

 

“It says something about the world we live in that none of us had that much trouble believing it,” Leia says, shaking her head. “Weapons of mass destruction. Huge government cover-up. It doesn’t even sound real to me now. But we bought it enough to stake the entire network’s reputation on it!”

 

“We got bad intel. It happens.”

 

“We fucked up and rushed a story that needed more proof because we wanted to get there first,” Leia snaps, bitterly.

 

“Yeah, we fucked up,” Cassian says, since there’s no denying it. “But we also got fucked over. By multiple sources.”

 

Leia laughs again, but there’s little joy in it. “Well, at least it was by  _ multiple sources _ ,” she says, and it occurs to Cassian that she’s maybe drunker than she looks. “God, I practiced the speech I was going to give when I got my Peabody,” Leia whines, covering her face with her hands. “Now, we’re getting sued!”

 

“To be fair, you already have a Peabody,” he replies, putting an arm around her.

 

“I wanted another one, Cassian,” she says, shooting a petulant glare his way. She doesn’t shove him off, though, which means she’s not really upset with him.

 

“I know.”

 

“I can’t believe Krennic has the gall to sue us for wrongful termination,” Leia continues, well and truly on a tear now. “He edits the tape, misrepresents a key source’s statement, and then lies about it for months! And then sues us for firing him for it! It’s fucking insane!”

 

“God, I would have given anything to be in that elevator when you fired him,” Cassian says, with some heat. “I would have snapped his neck.”

 

“That’s precisely why you weren’t there,” Leia says, her tone dry, but there’s amusement lurking in her eyes. 

 

“I don’t know how you refrained.”

 

“I was in shock. If I had to see him now, I don’t know what I’d do.”

 

“Jyn never liked him,” Cassian says, apropos of nothing, really. The thought was just in the back of his mind.

 

“None of us did,” Leia says, looking at him sideways. “Not really. We just needed someone to cover for Amilyn while she was gone. He seemed an inoffensive choice at the time.” Cassian snorts at that, but she ignores him. “Who knew he was so ambitious?” 

 

“Jyn did. She warned us,” he answers, and feels Leia tense next to him. He pulls her in tighter, trying to be reassuring.

 

It must not succeed, because Leia’s tone is defensive when she says, quietly, “She knew Krennic through her dad, who had just died. She wasn’t in her right mind. That’s how I justified ignoring her objections at the time, at least. And I don’t remember you fighting me on it, either.”

 

“I’m not blaming you,” Cassian replies, keeping his voice low and not letting Leia get a rise out of him. “I’m not blaming anyone. I’m just saying…” He trails off, because what is he even saying? “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, I guess.”

 

“You feel guilty?” Leia asks, and he’s surprised she even has to.

 

“For not listening to Jyn? Or for the entire Scarif debacle?”

 

“Any of it. All of it,” Leia says, her brow furrowed in thought.

 

“Yeah. For all of it,” He says. “I feel guilty about everything, all the time. But Scarif’s on a whole different level.”

 

“‘Institutional failure’ is the term they’re throwing around.”

 

“For good reason. It’s apt.”

 

“I know,” Leia says, and her expression is far-off. Her phone chirps with a text message notification. She looks at it, briefly, but doesn’t actually unlock her phone or reply to it. “It’s Han,” she says, without him even asking.

 

“Did I miss him?” Cassian asks.

 

“No, he didn’t come out for drinks,” she says, tonelessly. “He had a date with...someone. I can’t remember.” Her forgetfulness doesn’t appear to be feigned. Instead, she just looks exhausted and resigned in a way that makes Cassian’s heart hurt.

 

“What’s he doing texting you, then?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Leia answers, flatly.

 

He could push and ask what the text says, but he actively tries to avoid getting in the middle of Leia and Han’s weird dynamic. They are, mercifully, self-aware enough to know it’s fraught and fucked up. He doesn’t need to point that out, especially not now. Besides, grilling Leia about her love life is a surefire way to get her on his case about Jyn and he doesn’t have the energy for that conversation at the moment. Maybe they can just sit there, a pot and a kettle of the same shade, without calling each other out. That might be nice.

 

“None of this would have happened if you’d just made a move on Jyn when I told you to,” Leia says, suddenly, and so much for them being nice to each other.

 

“You never—”

 

“I set her up with my brother! I told you she was trying to get over someone she’d never dated!”

 

“Oh, you’re right. I’m an idiot for not divining that you wanted me to ask her out from that!” Cassian practically shouts. “It’s all so clear now!”

 

“Don’t be an ass,” Leia says, prim but sharp. “You’re not stupid, you know how she feels about you.”

 

“I wasn’t ready,” he says, feeling small and childish admitting it. “And if I had, somehow, decoded your subliminal messages and made a move, it wouldn’t have stopped the Scarif story. You can blame me for plenty, but not that. Not entirely.” When Leia says nothing in response, he continues, “And moreover, if I had taken your advice, I would have hooked up with Jyn a month before her father died. Not exactly auspicious timing for the start of a relationship.”

 

“First of all,” Leia begins, holding up a finger in a way that’s probably supposed to look authoritative but actually makes her look even more inebriated, “I’m glad you’re admitting that it would have been a relationship, instead of pretending you two could have kept it casual. You couldn’t have and I’m pleased you know well enough to know that.”

 

“I—”

 

“Secondly,” she continues, drawing the word out, “if you had made your move then, she’d have had you by her side, to lean on, when her dad died, and that would have made a difference, I think.”

 

“I  _ was _ by her side,” Cassian says, indignant and stung. “Or have you forgotten the month after it happened where she practically lived in my office? Where I was the go-to source if you wanted to know where she was or how she was doing? What, in your expert opinion, could I have done for her that I didn’t do? I’m all ears.” Hurt, he starts to pull his arm away from Leia, but she’s too fast and grabs his wrist before he can manage it.

 

“No, no. You’re right,” Leia says, and she closes her eyes like she has to concentrate. “That was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

 

“Christ, Leia.”

 

“I know I’m being a bitch, okay? I’m sorry.”

 

“Let me go.”

 

“Not ‘til you forgive me.”

 

“It’s fine,” he says, exasperated. She squeezes his wrist, as if to say  _ not good enough _ . “I forgive you.”

 

“Good,” she says, and lets go of his wrist to pat his hand where it still rests on her shoulder.

 

When Cassian looks across the room now, Jyn, Baze, and Chirrut have vacated their spot on the couch. He sees Chirrut heading out the door with his hand resting in the crook of Baze’s arm. Jyn is nearby, collecting her coat from the rack by the door. Putting it on necessitates her turning in their direction and even in the dark of the bar, Cassian catches the moment she sees him and Leia, how her eyes widen in recognition and then alarm, how her eyebrows draw together in confusion at them looking cozy in a back booth. It takes her a second longer to realize they’re looking back at her, but when she does her face clears, just a little, and she gives them a wave, really just extends her palm in acknowledgement, and then flips her hair out from under her collar and heads out into the night.

 

“Baze and Chirrut should have waited for her,” he says, not even pretending with Leia like he wasn’t watching. “They should have all split a cab or something.”

 

“They’re going in the opposite direction from her,” Leia says, simply. “Besides, she can take care of herself.”

 

“I know,” Cassian says, still looking at the door. “I mean, about her being able to take care of herself. I’ve never been to her apartment.”

 

Leia sighs, as if this is a great personal failure on his part. Which, it is, but if anyone should be sighing over it, it should be him. “I had a third point,” she says, out of the blue.

 

“Okay. What do you want to blame me for this time?”

 

“Easy,” Leia warns. “I was just going to say that you really need to overcome this idea that there’s a perfect time to start a relationship.” 

 

“Did I say that?” He asks, knowing full well he’s hedging.

 

“Yes, you did. Indirectly, at least. And it’s bullshit. There’s no such thing as good timing. If you wait for everything to be exactly right, you’ll wait forever,” Leia says, gesturing a little wildly with her hands.

 

“But there is such a thing as bad timing for getting into a relationship,” Cassian says, while he processes what Leia’s just said.

 

“For example…”

 

“In the middle of a tornado,” he says after a moment of deliberation, just to make her laugh. 

 

“At least then you’d have guts,” she says. Her eyes are a little watery, from laughing, from the alcohol and the late hour.

 

“I’ve got guts,” he replies, stubbornly. 

 

“If you say so.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Okay. I’m just saying,” Leia begins, placatingly. “Sometimes, a girl gets tired of waiting.” She’s got that far-off look on her face again, and Cassian knows she’s not just thinking about him and Jyn. 

 

As if on cue, her phone beeps with another text message. This time, she picks up the phone, and slides it open to read the message. Whatever it says makes her frown, and she immediately starts in on a reply. Cassian uses this as an opportunity to sneak his arm back and pull out his own phone. He dismisses the dozen email notifications he has, even at this time of night, and opens up his messages. Clicking on his conversation with Jyn, he sends a quick text.

 

**_Let me know when you get home safely._ **

 

“You know, you get this soppy look on your face when you’re texting her,” Leia says, startling him.

 

“No, I don’t,” he says, immediately, and pockets his phone.

 

“You’re right. It’s not  _ just _ when you’re texting her. It’s also when you’re looking at her, or thinking about her,” she continues, undeterred. “You’re lucky she can’t see you when you’re in the control room and she’s behind the desk, because, PEW!” Leia mimes her head exploding, or something. “It’s just hearts, shooting out of your head, everywhere!”

 

“You’re doing it again,” he points out.

 

“What?”

 

“Being a bitch to me.”

 

“Oh, sorry,” she says, and at least she has the grace to look somewhat apologetic.

 

“It’s fine. You’re drunk.”

 

“No, I’m not!”

 

“You definitely are, but I’m not holding it against you,” he says, angling his body towards her.

 

“How kind of you,” she replies, drily. Her phone beeps again and she doesn’t even look at it, just tips her head back to rest on the wall of the booth.

 

Cassian checks his phone, finds no response from Jyn, and returns it to his pocket. She’s not always quick about returning messages, but he also wonders if she’s annoyed with him. “We should just marry each other,” he says to Leia, for some reason. It’s late, that’s probably why.

 

“You and me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh, God. That’d be a disaster,” Leia says, laughing.

 

“Would it?”

 

“Of course it would,” Leia says, with so much certainty that Cassian actually envies her. “You and I, we…”

 

“Yes?” He prompts when she gets lost in thought.

 

“We take the world’s troubles on ourselves,” Leia finally says. “We want everything to be our fault, our responsibility, so that we can fix it. Two people like that in a relationship? Disaster. We need other people to lighten us up.”

 

“I guess you’re right.”

 

“I know I am,” she says, finishing her drink. She places the glass on the table and turns in towards him, putting a hand on his arm. “I didn’t break your heart, did I?”

 

Cassian smiles. “No. All in one piece, I promise.”

 

“Good,” Leia says, settling back again. 

 

Cassian phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out to find that Jyn’s replied to his text.

 

_ I’m home. Stop being a moron and pay attention to Leia. _

 

“What is it?” Leia asks, not looking at him. 

 

“Jyn’s home safe. And she’s mad at me,” he says, still blinking at the message.

 

“For what?”

 

“Snuggling with you, I think.”

 

Leia lets out a sharp laugh. “That girl puts my trust issues to shame.”

 

“She’s in a league of her own,” Cassian agrees, and starts on his reply.

 

**_Don’t be annoyed about Leia._ **

**_You should know better._ **

**_Glad you’re ok._ **

_ Are you calling me stupid? _

**_In this particular case, yes._ **

**_Get some rest_ **

**_xx_ **

 

“Let's get out of here,” Leia says, distracting him from his phone momentarily. She rolls her shoulders as she sits up. “It’s getting late.”

 

Cassian looks back at the blinking ellipses on his phone screen that tell him Jyn’s typing. He clicks the screen off, and resolves not to watch his phone, impatiently anticipating a response. 

 

“Yeah, it’s time,” he agrees, and follows Leia when she slides out of the booth.

 

**Wednesday, November 9, 1:34 AM**

 

“What?” Cassian asks, lost. “Nothing is going on with me and Leia.”

 

“She says you’re upset with her,” Jyn says, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“I—no, I’m not. Why would she think that I am?”

 

“Because you haven’t congratulated her or Han on the engagement yet.” 

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“She told me. She keeps asking where you are.”

 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Cassian says, dragging a hand over his face. “I’m just not in a particularly festive mood.”

 

“You don’t have to be in a festive mood to congratulate her,” Jyn says, and apparently she’s not going to let him off the hook for this. “Are you actually upset with her?”

 

“No, of course not. Leia and I are fine.”

 

“Are you not happy for them?” Jyn asks, looking genuinely concerned. “You’re not in love with Leia, are you?”

 

“What? No!” Cassian almost has to laugh at Jyn asking him that, after he said the same thing to Poe. “I’m not in love with Leia.”

 

“But you’re not happy for her?” Jyn asks, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

 

“I am happy for her! If this is what she wants,” he replies.

 

“So you don’t think she’s happy, then?” 

 

“Jesus, you’re relentless,” he says, and he’d probably be smiling at her tenacity if he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. “Where did you learn to interrogate people like this?”

 

Jyn rolls her eyes heavenward and motions at him, as if to say,  _ from you, dumbass _ . “It’s almost like I’m a journalist, or something,” she adds, aloud.

 

“No wonder nobody wants to be on your show.”

 

“If you think you can distract me by being mean, it won’t work.”

 

“Sorry,” Cassian says, holding up his hands in defeat. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

 

“About what?”

 

“It’s just very sudden. The thing with Han and Leia. And it’s been chaos around here lately, so I want to make sure they’re going into this with clear heads.”

 

“They were together before, you know. So it’s not like they don’t know each other. And they’ve been in love for years, even if they haven’t been in a relationship the whole time,” Jyn says. “Besides, maybe this means they’ll argue less.”

 

“I’m not holding my breath for that,” he says, and Jyn laughs.

 

“Okay, me neither,” she admits. “But they’re happier tonight than I’ve seen either of them in ages. So, I’m just going to hope for the best.”

 

“You?” He teases.

 

“I know, it’s a revolutionary concept for me,” Jyn says, rolling her eyes. “But I’m giving it a try.”

 

“I just don’t want it to go wrong again,” Cassian says. “Leia was a mess the last time.”

 

“Even if it does, she’s tough. She’ll get through it.”

 

“If she’s so tough, why does she care what I think?”

 

Jyn cocks her head to the side to look at him. “You have no idea how much your opinion means to her, do you?” she asks, disbelieving. “Leia admires you so much, Cassian. She wants to know that you approve.”

 

“No one is good enough for Leia,” he says, and it’s only kind of a joke.

 

“No, but Han’s willing to try. And that counts for something.”

 

Cassian can’t tell if Jyn meant it as a dig at him or not but, either way, she’s right. He might have his reservations about how their engagement came about, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be happy for Han and Leia, or optimistic about their future together. And if Leia cares as much as Jyn says about having his approval, well, it’s the least he can do.

 

“I was going to congratulate them on my way out,” Cassian says, only slightly begrudgingly. “I’m heading home now, I’ll make sure to see them before I actually leave.”

 

“You’re going home now?” Jyn asks, brows furrowed.

 

“Yes.”

 

“To Queens?”

 

“That’s where I live, so, yes.”

 

“You can’t go all the way to Queens at this hour,” Jyn says, aghast. “It’s going to take you forever.”

 

“It’s fine,” Cassian says.

 

“It’s late, and you’re going to get stabbed at the subway station,” she says.

 

“I’ve taken the train at this hour before and I’ve lived to tell the tale,” he replies. “I’ll be fine, Jyn.”

 

“At least take a cab home.”

 

“That will take almost as long and cost me as much as a month’s rent,” Cassian says, frustrated by this conversation and confused as to how he ended up in it. “The subway is fine.”

 

“You’re going to fall asleep and end up all the way in Jamaica,” she counters.

 

“No, I won’t. The pain from my stab wound will keep me awake.”

 

“Very funny,” she says, rolling her eyes.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Cassian says, seriously this time. “I will be fine.”

 

Jyn bites her lip as she thinks this over, clearly trying to decide if she should keep arguing with him, and he doesn’t know which part he finds more attractive. He really needs to go home and get some sleep before he does something stupid.

 

Luckily, though, Jyn thinks of something stupid they can do first. “You could stay with me,” she says, and Cassian has to concentrate very hard on his breathing so he doesn’t choke on air.

 

“What,” he says, sounding hoarse, despite his best efforts.

 

“My apartment is a lot closer than yours, you could stay over. I don’t have a guest room, but I’ve got a couch,” Jyn says, and she’s speaking slowly and clearly in a way that makes Cassian think she’s trying very hard not to seem nervous. “It’s a nice couch, too. I’ve never slept on it, but it’s, you know, expensive. So I hope it’s comfortable.”

 

“You don’t know if your couch is comfortable or not?”

 

“I didn’t pick it out,” she says, helplessly. “I paid a decorator to do the whole apartment, because Leia said it looked like no one lived there and it was sad. And it’s a good investment, you know, if I ever decide to sell it.”

 

“It’s your home, Jyn. Not a real estate opportunity,” Cassian says, amused.

 

“I’m barely there, what do I care what it looks like?” She asks. “The decorator told me she did it in a Scandinavian industrial modernist style, which is very popular.”

 

“That sounds awful.”

 

“It’s...inoffensive.”

 

“What a ringing endorsement.”

 

“You’re really not going to come to my apartment because you don’t like Scandinavian industrial modernist interiors?” Jyn asks, putting her hands on her hips.

 

“I’m not going to your apartment because I want to go to  _ mine _ ,” he says. “It’s done in the Swedish eclectic bargain style.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It means I own exclusively mismatched furniture from IKEA and sheet sets with thread counts so low that no woman ever should consider me as a romantic prospect.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says the issue of  _ Cosmopolitan Magazine _ I read at my doctor’s office a few weeks ago,” Cassian says.

 

“You read  _ Cosmo _ ?”

 

“Only when I’m at the doctor’s office.”

 

“You know you could just buy nicer sheets, right?” Jyn asks, clearly not sure whether she should be annoyed or amused by him.

 

“But then what would I blame for my perpetual loneliness?” He asks, only kind of kidding.

 

“Your personality, I’d think.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Well, it’s either that or your looks, and we both know those aren’t the problem,” Jyn says, and Cassian feels his face heat up.

 

“I didn’t know that, actually,” he says, quietly, because his throat has gone completely dry.

 

“Well, now you do,” she replies, shrugging and looking away from him.

 

“I’m not coming to your apartment, Jyn,” Cassian says, closing his eyes so he doesn’t get distracted. He’s so tired and his thoughts are so muddled. He knows what will happen if he goes to her place, he knows that he doesn’t have the willpower to keep his feelings in check once they’re well and truly alone together. And still, he wants nothing more than to give in, to go home with her and pretend this is all some casual fling he can lose himself in. But he knows she deserves better than that, and maybe he does too.

 

“I know you’re not,” Jyn says, resigned. “You’re going to be a martyr, and go to Queens, even though it’s stupid to do so.”

 

“It’s not stupid. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“It means, if I go to your apartment, I’m sure as hell not going to sleep on your couch. I know that, and I think you do too.”

 

Jyn blinks at him in surprise. “What are you going to do instead?” 

 

“I’m going to ruin our friendship, the second I’m alone with you,” he says, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

 

“We’re alone right now,” she points out, helpfully.

 

“And I’m barely keeping it together. Imagine how I’d be in your apartment.”

 

“Okay, I’m imagining it…”

 

“I’m being serious, Jyn.”

 

“So am I,” she says, earnestly. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

“We end up sleeping together because we’re exhausted and overworked and stressed out and seeking distraction and it ruins what we have,” Cassian answers, honestly.

 

Jyn looks a little shell-shocked by this answer, but she recovers quickly. “And what do we have?”

 

“A professional relationship based on mutual respect and deep admiration for one another.”

 

Jyn smiles, clearly despite herself, at that. “And you don’t think we could have that  _ and _ sleep together?” She asks, patiently.

 

“I can’t lose you, as a friend,” he says, desperately. “I know it’s possible we could have both, but I’m a disaster and you know that. If anything happened between us now, I’d just screw it up and I would never forgive myself for that.”

 

“Cassian, how long have you wanted to sleep with me?”

 

“I—What?”

 

“How long have you wanted to sleep with me?” Jyn asks again, calmly. When he still just looks back at her, open-mouthed with surprise, she adds, “Because I’ve wanted to sleep with you since we first met.”

 

“You have?” He asks, dumbfounded. “But I was such an asshole to you the first time we met.”

 

“You were, but you were also hearing me out even though I was yelling at you for something that wasn’t your fault and giving me helpful—not to mention, brutal—feedback.”

 

“That’s what makes you want to sleep with someone?”

 

“No. It’s what made me want to sleep with  _ you _ ,” she says. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

 

Cassian swallows, trying to gather his thoughts. “The second time we met,” he says, finally. “You came back after our first argument with an entire point-by-point rebuttal of everything I’d said before. That’s when I knew.”

 

“That you wanted to sleep with me?”

 

“That I was going to fall in love with you, if I wasn’t careful,” he says, and his heart is beating so fast it actually hurts. “And I was so careful, after that. You talk all the time about how you can’t read people but even you must have known that I was holding myself back. But it happened anyway. I fell in love with you.” 

 

He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I am in love with you. Present tense. I never could figure out how to tell you, because the timing never felt right and the words never felt like enough. And I’ve tried to keep my feelings to myself, but all that did was hurt you, which is never what I wanted to do. I’m sorry if I’ve given you mixed signals, or if I have been too cautious. I promise it was only because I wanted to get it right, with you. I wanted to make sure it was the real thing. I know now. I’ve loved you all along, and I can’t imagine I’ll ever stop. It’s just a fact of the universe now.”

 

Even in the dim lighting of his office, he can see that Jyn has tears in her eyes. He can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad sign, especially because she’s holding completely still and the look on her face is one of pure shock. 

 

“You told me you didn’t have any romantic feelings for me,” she says, quietly, after a long stretch of silence.

 

“The only thing I told you was that I didn’t buy that book to be romantic, and I didn’t.” Cassian corrects her. “It can’t be romantic if I never had any plan for you to find out about it. But trust me, I have plenty of romantic feelings for you.”

 

“So you did that thing I hate where you tell me the truth but it’s only part of the truth?” She asks, crossing her arms.

 

If she were anyone else, Cassian would be worried by this, as a response to him confessing his love for her—four times, if he counted correctly. But this is Jyn, and he’s pretty sure arguing about petty issues of semantics is her love language. So instead of being discouraged, he smiles at her.

 

“I told you the complete truth, as far as the book is concerned,” he says, feeling lighter than he has all evening. “But I don’t want to have this argument anymore.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Really. I have a feeling I’ll be having it for the rest of my life, anyway, if I spend as much of it with you as I want to.”

 

Jyn laughs in disbelief at that. She looks as though she’s struggling with a response, trying to come up with the right words to say, but in the end, she just shakes her head. Cassian is about to ask what she’s thinking, when she steps forward into his space, grabs him by the shirt, and kisses him again.

 

This kiss is just as intense as their first in the control room, with Jyn taking the lead and pressing her mouth to his insistently. To her, this isn’t a conversation—she’s just making a statement to prove a point—but Cassian wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her close, and makes it one anyway.

 

It’s useless, at this point, to pretend like he hasn’t thought about this. He’s thought about it a lot, in fact—when it would happen, under what circumstances, and how it would feel, to name just a few considerations. He’s thought of every angle. He can’t help it; it’s just how his brain works. And before anyone can accuse him of being a romantic, or worse, an obsessive pervert, he’s also pictured every way it could go wrong: every scenario where he finally gives in and kisses Jyn like he’s always wanted to and she doesn’t reciprocate, or pushes him away, or lets him down easy. Someone like him, he has to be prepared for all contingencies.

 

In spite of that, all of his thinking, and fantasizing, and worrying over this moment did not prepare him for it in the least. Cassian understands immediately that he could never have accurately imagined what kissing Jyn would actually be like. He wasn’t ready for the surprised noise she makes when his arms tighten around her waist, or the way her mouth softens against his once she realizes her originally defiant gesture is being met with enthusiastic reciprocation. In all his fantasies, he would never have imagined he would describe the way Jyn kisses him as gentle or sweet, and yet, in reality, it is both of those things. 

 

She releases her grip on his shirt—which is now wrinkled from being grasped at—and slides her arms up around his neck, and it’s almost enough to make him shiver. In his sleep-deprived state, he recognizes the surge of adrenaline, how wide-awake and wired he feels suddenly, as a phantom brought on by his awareness of Jyn’s body being so close to his, in a way he’s wholly unfamiliar with. They’re not even the sort of friends who hug each other casually, under normal circumstances. Having her pressed against him like this now, every nerve and synapse feels like it’s on high alert.

 

The excitement of finally kissing Jyn after all this time and the exhaustion of the last several weeks at work seem to be fighting over possession of his body, and Cassian sways a little on the spot, overcome by both. He manages to right himself while still keeping a hold on Jyn, but he decides it’s probably best to pull back and reassess. When he tries to do just that, easing his way out of the kiss, Jyn bites down on his lower lip with enough force that he actually whines, and  _ thank god  _ they’re alone. Maybe “gentle” still isn’t a word he can use to describe her, after all.

 

“What,” Jyn demands, the word coming out like a growl.

 

“I just—” Cassian tries to say, but Jyn is now kissing along his jaw and words feel useless against that. He attempts to collect himself, difficult though it may be, and tries again. “I need a moment.”

 

Jyn must hear something in the tone of his voice, because she pulls back immediately, hands coming to rest on his neck and gives him a searching look. He can tell she’s watching him closely in order to puzzle out what’s wrong, so she can figure out the problem first and solve it. He loves so many things about her—her stubbornness, her obliviousness, how loyal she is with anyone who’s earned her trust, the way she argues with him—but really, he just loves the way her mind works. He smiles at her, at the comfort of knowing instantly what she’s thinking.

 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, warily.

 

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” he says, running a hand over his face. Of course everything he’s ever wanted would happen to him when he’s too exhausted to fully appreciate it.

 

Jyn continues to look suspiciously at him. “You’re sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Cassian says, absentmindedly toying with a strand of hair that’s hanging by Jyn’s face, presumably loosened from its styling during their kiss. 

 

“You’re not about to tell me we’d be better off as friends, are you?” She asks, and there’s a slight wobble to her voice that he definitely does not miss.

 

Cassian doesn’t mean to, but he laughs. “No, I’m not,” he says. “You’ve convinced me, thoroughly. We should definitely be the sort of friends who also kiss each other, among other things.”

 

Jyn, from what he can tell in the dark, blushes and ducks her head so he can’t see the way she bites her lip to hide her smile. He does see it, though, and loses a moment of coherent thought because of it. He is, in fact, so inspired by this that he’s dipping his head to kiss her again when she interrupts him.

 

“Does this mean you’re coming to my apartment after all?” She asks, and Cassian stifles a groan against her shoulder instead of reaching his intended destination.

 

“Jyn, you’re  _ killing _ me,” he says, and he thinks he feels her shiver when his breath hits her neck. “Do you have any idea how tired I am?”

 

“All the more reason for you to stay at my place.”

 

“That’s really all you’re offering? A place to stay?” He asks, incredulously.

 

“Well, it’s not like I would mind if something else happened,” Jyn says, running her fingers through his hair in a deeply unfair move. “Would you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You would?”

 

“Yes, I would.”

 

“Didn’t we just have this conversation? What happened to me convincing you?” She asks, bewildered.

 

“I don’t want anything to happen  _ tonight _ ,” Cassian says, choosing his words carefully in spite of his mounting exhaustion. “I want to do this right. I don’t want to be too tired to appreciate that this is finally happening. And I should—I don’t know—take you to dinner first and make it official.”

 

“You really need to stop reading  _ Cosmo _ . I don’t care about any of that.”

 

“I want you to know that I’m serious.”

 

“You’re rarely anything else.”

 

“Jyn, if I play my cards right, this is the last first date I’m ever going to go on,” he says, and his pulse is racing again. “Can you just let me have this?”

 

Jyn says nothing for a long time, which makes him nervous that he’s gone too far, but she also keeps carding her fingers through his hair, which reassures him slightly. 

 

“I’ll let you take me out to dinner,” she finally says, cautiously, as if she’s worried about losing ground in their disagreement, “if you stay with me tonight. Just a place to stay, no other expectations.”

 

Cassian finally picks his head up off her shoulder and looks her in the eye. “Really?” He asks. “Nothing else?”

 

“It’s completely up to you,” she says, with a shrug. “I just want you nearby. So I know you’re safe.”

 

Cassian leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. He doesn’t have the words to respond to that properly, anyway.

 

“You just know that I won’t be able to resist you once we’re in your bed,” he says, after a while, against her lips.

 

“The thought might have occurred to me, yes,” Jyn replies, and he can feel her smile.

 

“Well, the joke will be on you, then,” he says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to bring her closer. “I’m warning you now: it’s not going to be my best work.”

 

Jyn laughs at that, a soft choked sound even as she keeps kissing him. “That’s fine,” she says. “I’ll grade on a curve.”

 

“Really? That doesn’t sound like you.”

 

“I’m willing to bump up your score on the grounds that I’m in love with you,” she says, and his heart stops, briefly. “That generally makes everything better, in my experience.”

 

“You better not be saying that just to get me into bed,” he says, and his voice sounds hoarse.

 

“Not  _ just _ ,” Jyn says, giving him a small smile. “Anyway, I was under the impression I was getting you into bed no matter what.”

 

“You are,” Cassian says, placing a hand on her cheek. “But you love me.”

 

“I do, but don’t make a big deal out of it.”

 

“Too late. I’m already doing that. You’re never going to hear the end of it.”

 

“Oh, no. If only there was a way I could stop you from talking,” Jyn says, mock-seriously, and then presses up onto her toes to kiss him again. 

 

**Wednesday November 9, 5:30 AM**

 

Cassian wakes up, slowly and with great confusion, to the sound of church bells. Given that he hasn’t been to church in years and he doesn’t live near enough to one that the bells could be this loud, it’s a little alarming, as ways to wake up go. Although, it’s not concerning enough to make him open his eyes, so he’s clearly not that worried. He also can’t know what time it is without taking this step, but it’s safe to assume, based on the way he feels, that he definitely did not get enough sleep last night.

 

He’s considering just ignoring the chiming, which is rising in both pitch and volume, for as long as it continues and just going back to sleep, when there’s suddenly a soft weight on his chest. He hears a groan of discomfort and then, at once, the bells stop. The weight, however, remains, which is not something he can actually ignore.

 

His eyes sting when he finally manages to open them, and it is definitely safe to say that he did not catch up on enough sleep last night to make up for several weeks’ worth of insomnia and over-work. Still, the exhaustion might be worth it, if it’s the price he pays for waking up to see Jyn leaning across him, rubbing her eyes and looking as disheveled and groggy as he feels.

 

“Sorry,” she says, when they make eye contact, and her voice is lower and rougher than he’s ever heard it before and it just about knocks him out. “I forgot I set an alarm.”

 

Cassian shakes his head to brush off her apology. It’s only then he fully recognizes how dark it is; there’s barely any light even sneaking in around the edges of the curtains. “What time is it?” He asks, hoarsely.

 

“5:30 in the morning,” Jyn says, and winces when he immediately groans in response. “I know, I’m sorry.”

 

She accompanies her apology this time by resting her head on his chest and smoothing a hand over the neckband of his t-shirt. Her fingertips brush the side of his neck and, while he doesn’t think it’s meant to be manipulative, it does distract him momentarily from the question he was going to ask next.

 

“Why do you have an alarm set for 5:30?” He asks, when he remembers. “And why church bells?”

 

“So I can go to the gym before work,” she says, as if that’s not completely insane. “And...because they’re nice to wake up to. I don’t know.”

 

“Jyn, we didn’t leave ACN until after 2 in the morning. Why would you go to the gym with less than three hours of sleep?”

 

“It’s just my routine, I forgot to turn it off last night,” Jyn replies. She’s pushed herself up onto her elbows now, and Cassian recognizes the defensive hunch of her shoulders. He reaches out a hand and rubs it up and down her arm, which makes her relax a little. “Besides, it’s not  _ my fault _ we didn’t get more sleep last night,” she adds.

 

“Are you implying it’s mine?”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. At the office, you kept saying, ‘We need to take things slow and not make any rash decisions tonight when we’re so exhausted,’ and then the second you got here, you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

 

“I did warn you that would happen,” Cassian says, slipping his hand up to tangle into her hair, which is still a mess from sleeping and what they got up to last night. He’s choosing to believe that she’s just teasing him—that she doesn’t already regret what happened between them—but there’s some small part of him that, he can admit, is a little worried. “Besides,” he adds, pushing this thought aside, “I don’t remember you complaining last night.”

 

“ _ Three hours ago _ ,” she replies, pointedly. “And I’m not complaining now—”

 

“Could have fooled me.”

 

“I’m not complaining now  _ either _ ,” she continues, as though he hadn’t interrupted, and adjusts her position so that their faces are closer together and she can look him in the eye. “I’m just saying that, if you’re tired, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

 

“Well, that’s true,” he says. “Although, I think my being tired has more to do with the months of stress and lack of sleep that led up to last night, and less to do with anything that actually happened last night, specifically.”

 

Jyn laughs at that, but smothers the sound in his neck. “You’re trying to suggest that fooling around with me, fully clothed, like a couple of teenagers at bible camp, didn’t completely tire you out?” She asks, and her finger is tracing the edge of his collar, occasionally slipping underneath in a distracting manner.

 

“I don’t know what bible camp you went to, but my experience was nothing like that.”

 

“I was just kidding!” she says, delighted. “You actually went to bible camp?”

 

“Let’s change the subject…”

 

“Nope. We’re not going to do that. You have to tell me all about it.”

 

“It’s not that weird,” Cassian says, defensively. He’s not actually that uncomfortable, but it seems to be amusing Jyn, so he’ll go with it. “You never went?”

 

“No,” Jyn says, scrunching up her nose. “My dad wasn’t religious. And my mom was Pagan.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“It’s a whole thing,” Jyn says, waving a hand dismissively.

 

“And you think me going to bible camp is weird?” Cassian asks, astonished.

 

“It is. Did you sign a purity pledge? Is this why you want to wait until we go on an official date before we sleep together? Are you going to tell me at dinner that you’re planning on waiting until marriage?” 

 

With each question she asks, Jyn seems more and more delighted and it’s hard for Cassian to remain annoyed in the face of that. It’s also hard to be in a bad mood when she’s still curled up on his chest and smiling more than he’s seen her in ages. 

 

“Not that there’s anything wrong with any of that,” he starts to say, and Jyn bites her lip to keep from laughing at his earnest tone, “but I am absolutely not going to make us wait until marriage. It’s been hard enough waiting until Saturday.”

 

“Again, it’s been  _ three hours _ ,” Jyn says, amused. “Wait, did you say  _ Saturday _ ?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Cassian, it’s  _ Wednesday _ .”

 

“I know.”

 

“We’re not going out until Saturday night?”

 

“Of course not,” he says, and Jyn is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “I’m the executive producer for the ten o’clock hour, remember?”

 

“I know who you are,” Jyn says, petulantly.

 

“And so you know that I don’t actually leave work until almost midnight every night, right?”

 

“Yeah, but…”

 

“Where are we going to get a nice dinner at midnight on a weekday?”

 

“I don’t know, but I can think of a hundred places we can get a mediocre dinner, at midnight, on a weekday,” Jyn says, poking a finger into his chest with more force than he thinks is strictly necessary. “Besides, I already told you that I don’t care about you buying me dinner. I kind of thought you were joking about that, anyway. We can just forget about the whole thing and have sex right now.”

 

“And I already told you, it’s important to me that we do this right,” he says, sliding a hand up and down her back. “Besides, I thought you had to go to the gym.”

 

“I would skip the gym to have sex with you.”

 

“That’s very romantic, thank you.”

 

“Shut up,” she says, burying her face in his neck. “What am I supposed to do for the rest of the week?”

 

“Same thing you’ve been doing for three years: not having sex with me.”

 

“You are so frustrating,” Jyn says, despondently.

 

“Trust me, I know,” Cassian replies, and kisses the top of her head.

 

Jyn leans up on her elbows then to look him in the eye again. “It’s really that important to you?” She asks, warily.

 

“Of course, it is,” he says, seriously. “I know it seems like it’s just dinner. What does it matter, in the grand scheme of things? But this is you and me. It took us long enough to get here. I think we should take the chance to be smug and annoying and romantic about it.”

 

Jyn listens to this speech with a look on her face that’s a mix of incredulity and fondness. She runs a finger up and down the column of his throat lazily as she thinks over what he’s said. 

 

“I do love being smug and annoying,” she finally says, and Cassian laughs. “I’m willing to go along with this ridiculous plan as long as us going out to fancy dinners doesn’t become a regular thing.”

 

“Of course not. I would never subject you to such misery.”

 

“You’re teasing me now, but just wait until someone interrupts our date to tell me how ‘trickle-down economics actually works if you just think about it this way,’” Jyn replies, with a liberal use of air-quotes.

 

“You seem to be under the impression that watching you verbally eviscerate someone over their incorrect understanding of economic theory isn’t a huge turn-on for me, and I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong about that.”

 

Jyn smiles and hides her face in her hands, but Cassian can still see the blush that’s creeping up her neck. He traces it with his thumb, follows its progress all the way up to her hairline, and he immediately begins idly twisting strands around his fingers. It just feels pointless to keep his hands to himself. If he’d only known how good it would feel to have his feelings for Jyn out in the open like this, he probably would have done it sooner. Well, maybe that’s being a little optimistic. Still, there’s something uniquely satisfying about being able to say what he’s thinking, earnestly and without hiding it in easily-denied innuendo or friendly banter. He can tell her now, all the things he’s been thinking to himself for years, and if she smiles like that every time, well, that’s just further incentive, isn’t it?

 

“You must be consumed with lust for me at all times, then,” Jyn says, lightly, when she’s recovered.

 

Cassian smiles at that, and moves his hand so that he can trace his thumb over her cheekbone. She turns her face in his hand and places a kiss on his palm. Lust isn’t the first word he’d use to describe how he feels about her—he used a different one last night, in fact, but it might be too early, and this change in their relationship too new and too delicate, for him to use it again so soon and so casually. He knows, though, as they’re enjoying the feeling of just being wrapped up in each other, that, no, lust doesn’t even begin to cover the depth of what he feels.

 

“I thought that was obvious,” he says, instead. 

 

An expression of such conflicting emotion—happiness and doubt, fondness and worry, desire and reticence—passes over Jyn’s features briefly, before she ducks her head. “Maybe to some people,” she says.

 

“To everyone,” Cassian insists, and Jyn raises her head to look at him. “Trust me. Everyone but you knew.”

 

“Are you calling me stupid?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow in challenge. He’s fairly certain she’s just kidding, but even knowing her as well as he does, he’s never completely sure if she’s saying what she means or not.

 

“In this particular case, yes,” he tries, and she laughs, reluctantly, and looks away from him. He tips her chin up with a finger so that she has to turn back. “You’re already a certified genius and a beautiful, talented woman, Jyn. If you could read social cues too, you’d be unstoppable. Accept that you have flaws like the rest of us mere mortals.”

 

“You’re very high and mighty for someone who spent the exact same amount of time not realizing I had feelings for you,” Jyn says, neatly ignoring every complimentary thing Cassian just said about her.

 

“I knew,” he says, and watches Jyn’s face fall. He swallows and his throat feels tight, suddenly. “I just assumed it was one of those harmless crushes people get at work. I figured you would get to know me better and you would realize…”

 

Jyn tilts her head to the side, in question. She looks concerned and he’s not even sure why he started telling her this in the first place. “Realize what?” she asks.

 

Cassian laughs, even though nothing is actually funny at the moment, and he pulls his hand back from where it was tangled in her hair to draw it over his face. “I thought you’d realize, once you got to know me, that I’m not really relationship material. That you could do better.”

 

Jyn blinks at him, clearly at a loss as to how to respond. “So,” she says, carefully, after she’s finished thinking it over, “I’m stupid and I have bad taste. Anything else about me you’d like to insult?”

 

“Well, you are getting up at 5:30 in the morning the day after doing late night Election coverage, so you’re clearly deranged.”

 

He’s trying to be funny, but he’s not sure it works as he intended, because Jyn abruptly sits up all the way and pulls back to swing her legs off the bed, turning completely away from him. Pulling a band off her wrist, she starts to wrangle her messy hair into a bun at the top of her head.

 

Cassian sits up with a sigh, not sure whether he’s more annoyed at himself for ruining the moment or at Jyn for taking his words so seriously. Actually, that’s no contest; he’s always more annoyed with himself than he is with her. He decides to take a risk and reach out for her, running his hand along her arm. She doesn’t flinch away from his touch, but he sees the effort it takes for her not to.

 

“I hate it when you say shit like that,” Jyn says, eyes closed as she tries to keep her emotions under control.

 

“You know I don’t actually think you’re deranged, right?”

 

“Not that. Who cares about that?” She asks, and finally looks at him. “I hate when you talk like...you don’t deserve to be happy. Like I couldn’t possibly know you as well as I do and still have feelings for you. Like there’s something about you that I don’t know yet that could make me change my mind.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Cassian says, resting his chin on her shoulder tentatively. She doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign. “I’m bad at getting what I want, I think. At just _ having _ what I want. I’m too suspicious. I’m always waiting for something to go wrong, some complication to crop up and ruin everything.”

 

Jyn toys idly with the fingers of his hand that’s now resting on her thigh, and he feels her nod slightly as he talks. Of course she understands, he thinks. It’s part of what he loves about her, the things they share as much as the things about them that are different.

 

“I understand that,” she says, threading their fingers together. “But I need you to have a little faith in me.”

 

“I have nothing but faith in you.”

 

She smiles, a soft smile he’s not sure he’s seen before. Maybe it’s one she only has in the mornings, maybe it’s new. Maybe it’s just for him. “Then you need to take me at my word that I want to be with you. That you’re exactly the sort of person who could make me happy.”

 

He kisses her shoulder in response, right along the line of the strap of her tank top, as if that can make up for the fact that words are utterly failing him right now. He pushes the fabric aside, sliding it off her shoulder so it drapes over her arm and out of his way. He keeps planting kisses in a trail across her collarbone, until he feels her hand come up to rest on his face. She leans over and buries her face in his hair.

 

“I need verbal confirmation that you hear and understand me,” she says, her thumb running back and forth over his cheek.

 

Cassian picks up his head, only a little unwillingly, and looks her in the eye. “I hear and understand you,” he says, and she gives him a look. “I am going to get better at this,” he amends.

 

“How did we circle back around to you criticizing yourself?”

 

“I am going to get better at having everything that I want,” he reiterates, more firmly this time, and kisses her shoulder again before she can stop him.

 

He thinks he hears a sharp intake of breath from her, and doesn’t know if it’s from what he’s said or what he’s doing. The answer comes a moment later when she asks, with considerable effort, “Everything?”

 

Cassian looks up again, and meets her eye. She looks nervous, he realizes, and it’s reassuring in the way only seeing your exact fears in someone else’s eyes can be. There is comfort in knowing they’re worried about the exact same thing, about ruining this new, fragile thing blooming between them. But he’d rather they ruin it with enthusiasm than with hesitation. They’ve tried the alternative already, and all it did was delay the inevitable. Now that they’re here, they might as well fully commit to it.

 

“Yes, everything,” he says, and pulls her closer with a hand at her waist. “With what I get to do every day for a living, and the life I get to lead, and you; what more could I want?”

 

“World peace,” Jyn says, after she’s thought about it for a moment, but she’s smiling.

 

“Right. I knew I was forgetting something,” he says, very seriously.

 

“At least, you’ll have something to live for, you know. Now that you have everything else you could ever want.”

 

“Something to live for,” he repeats, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. “Besides Saturday.”

 

“Saturday,” Jyn says, almost laughing, right as her lips meet his and the word gets lost in their kiss. The hand Cassian has at her waist tightens its grip, pulling her closer and angling her body towards him, while the hand at her jaw keeps her in place. Motivated by the same instinct, Jyn’s hand comes up to rest on his elbow, a silent demand that he keep going.

 

She gives him further proof of her approval when she opens her mouth under his, deepening their kiss as they move to intertwine more fully. Her other hand tangles in the hair at the base of his neck and she uses this to maneuver him however she chooses, which only makes him laugh into her mouth.

 

“What?” She asks, against him. She’s managed to successfully pull one of her legs back onto the bed and around his hip without breaking their kiss and is now in the process of lifting up onto her knees to get her other leg around him as well. 

 

“You’re pushy,” he says, craning his neck to keep kissing her. He likes this, her being taller than him, making him reach for her.

 

Jyn must notice, because she smiles at him and it’s a peculiar mix of pity and triumph, and he likes that too. She finishes settling herself into his lap, knees braced against his hips, and runs a thumb over his cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth. “Do you have any objections?” She asks.

 

“None.”

 

“Good,” she says, and takes his face in both of her hands to kiss him again.

 

It’s a few minutes later that Cassian realizes Jyn is more than just pushy. She might, in fact, have some sort of magical powers he wasn’t aware of, previously. Because he has no idea how he ended up in this position. Literally. It felt like a moment ago that she was in his lap and now, with nothing but a firm shove to his shoulders and a twist of her hips as they fell back, she’s underneath him and pressing their bodies flush together as they’re stretched out on the bed.

 

He should actually object now. After all, waiting until Saturday, after their date, had been his idea. It’s now seeming like an increasingly stupid idea, but it’s still his. But part of being a real adult is admitting when other people have better ideas than yours and, he has to admit, as Jyn arches up against him, leaving no space between them, and squeezes his hips more firmly between her thighs, she might have a better idea. A much better idea, he thinks, as she sighs softly into his mouth.  _ Fuck Saturday _ , he thinks, or maybe he says but it’s muffled against Jyn’s lips—he’s not sure, at this point, really, as he slides a hand up her thigh. It’s at that precise moment, of course, that he hears the sound of church bells. 

 

Cassian pulls back, because it feels rude to laugh while he’s kissing her, and she glares up at him briefly before covering her face with her hands. Since she’s clearly not going to do anything about it, he leans over, feeling around wildly on the bed in the dark until he finds her phone and turns off the alarm. Satisfied with his work, he tosses the phone aside and moves back to where Jyn is still lying on her side with her face covered.

 

“Come on,” Cassian says, wrapping his arms around her middle from behind. He kisses her shoulder blade too, for good measure. 

 

“Stop laughing,” she says, muffled by her hands.

 

“I can’t,” he says, and she looks over her shoulder to glare at him.

 

“It’s not funny.”

 

“It’s a little bit funny.” He kisses her neck, but it’s brief and chaste. He’s not trying to make something happen, which might be Jyn’s primary objection. “Why do you have two alarms?”

 

“In case I don’t wake up for the first one,” Jyn replies, as if he’s the stupidest man on earth.

 

“That’s very sensible.”

 

“Shut up,” she says, uncovering her face just to pinch his hands where they’re clasped on her stomach. “It’s not my fault you let it stop you.”

 

“You wanted me to keep going?”

 

“And why not? It’s just music! People have sex to music all the time.”

 

“Not to church bells!”

 

“They’re nice!”

 

Cassian laughs again, even though he knows it will get him in trouble. “You don’t have to convince me you didn’t go to bible camp anymore. I totally believe you.”

 

Jyn lies in his arms in sullen silence, ignoring him, for a few minutes. “Sorry,” she finally says, apropos of nothing, as far as he can tell.

 

He nudges her to turn around and look at him with a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, when their eyes meet. “I love you and your second alarm and your strange, possibly-Wiccan upbringing.”

 

Jyn smiles, and leans back to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “My mother wasn’t Wiccan,” she says, afterwards. “It’s a long story, for some other time.”

 

“When it’s not six in the morning…”

 

“And when I’ve had at least eight hours of sleep.”

 

“God, eight whole hours?” Cassian says, into her shoulder. “Could you imagine?”

 

“Another thing worth living for.”

 

He hums in agreement. “World peace, a good night’s sleep, Saturday, and you.”

 

Jyn doesn’t say anything in response, but she threads her fingers with his where they rest on her waist and that’s answer enough. After a moment, she moves to sit up, and Cassian goes with her, intertwined as they are.

 

“I should get going,” she says, and if they weren’t in her apartment, Cassian would take that as a brush-off. As it is, it just feels like an unwelcome intrusion from the real world.

 

“Right. Are you actually going to the gym?”

 

“Might as well,” she says, with an easy shrug. “Kay pushed back our usual morning meeting today by half an hour, so I might as well take advantage of it.”

 

“When do you have to be at ACN?”

 

“8 AM.”

 

“You normally meet with Kay at 7:30?” Cassian asks, astonished.

 

“Yes,” Jyn says, looking at him sharply. “Now you understand why I’m always threatening him with violence.”

 

“He couldn’t push your meeting back a little further? You were on the air until after midnight last night. He didn’t even have to do Election coverage!”

 

“I know. But you know Kay. He’s a hardass.”

 

“True,” Cassian says, and stretches his shoulders out to ease some of the stiffness left over from sleep. “It’s lucky he pushed the meeting back at all, honestly.”

 

“Yeah, well, that was my doing.”

 

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You had to ask him, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah, and he still didn’t do it for me.”

 

“Didn’t you just say—?”

 

“He didn’t agree until I told him you were gonna get laid if he pushed the meeting back,” Jyn says, evenly.

 

“He…? You said that to him?” Cassian asks, feeling like he’s going to choke.

 

“Yeah,” she says, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Who did you think I was texting when we left ACN last night?”

 

“Your other boyfriend.”

 

“Cute,” Jyn says, poking his cheek with a finger. “No, I was waking Kay up.”

 

“I don’t know if I should be flattered that he cares enough about my sex life that he’d help me get laid, or offended that he only gave us an extra half an hour.”

 

Jyn smiles at him, delighted. “Definitely the second one.”

 

“I mean, half an hour…”

 

“He clearly thinks very little of your stamina,” Jyn says, solemnly.

 

Cassian gives her a look, and she immediately breaks into a smile. “Don’t you have to go to the gym?” He asks.

 

“Yes, yes. I’m going,” she says, scooting to the edge of the bed.

 

“Good, I’m going too.”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Back to my apartment.”

 

“You’re going to go all the way back to Queens at this hour?”

 

“Not this again,” he says, laughing at her as she stands at the edge of the bed. “Do you have something against Queens?”

 

“Of course not. But you have to be at ACN in a few hours—”

 

“Six hours.”

 

“Oh, fuck you,” Jyn says, closing her eyes tiredly. “Sorry, that was a reflex.”

 

“No problem.”

 

“Anyway. You still don’t have to go all the way back to your apartment. Just hang out here.”

 

“I need to shower and change my clothes,” Cassian says, gesturing at himself. “Can’t go walking into work in yesterday’s clothes. People will think I’m easy.”

 

“You are easy,” Jyn says, smiling.

 

“Says the girl who hasn’t slept with me yet.”

 

“Touché,” she replies. “Regardless, if it’s clean clothes you want, I have a shirt you can borrow.”

 

“I don’t think you and I wear the same size.”

 

“I have one of your shirts,” Jyn says, looking carefully at the ground beneath her feet. “From a few months ago. You let me borrow it and I kept forgetting to give it back.”

 

Cassian suddenly remembers it, the night she’s talking about. It was right after her father had died and he’d gone into his office to find her hiding out there, to avoid Leia and everyone else trying to comfort her, to avoid reality all together. It became something of a ritual after that; she’d sneak into his office, whether he was there or not, and sit on the floor, hidden from view by his desk, any time she felt like she needed a break from it all. One of those nights, there had been something wrong with the heating in the building and she’d been shivering in her on-air outfit of a sleek, sleeveless dress as she sat and talked with him. He’d given her the extra button-up he had lying around, which was made of thick flannel and would definitely keep her warm, and then promptly forgotten about it. He never would have thought to ask for it back.

 

He stands up from the bed, so that he’s right in front of her, and puts his hands on her shoulders. She’s still looking away from him, and he can guess that it’s because she’s embarrassed. The instinct to hold her feelings as close to the vest as possible is a strong one, and he doesn’t expect her to get over it in a day, no matter how strong those feelings are.

 

He kisses her on the cheek, instead, and she doesn’t look at him, but she leans into his touch. “I bet you’ve been wearing it around the house just to smell my aftershave, or whatever it is girls like to do,” he says, smiling against her cheek.

 

She shoves him lightly, but she’s smiling too. “Nobody even wears aftershave anymore.”

 

“I don’t hear you denying wearing it, though.”

 

“It’s just been sitting in my closet, making me feel guilty for not returning it to you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

 

“So you’re saying you haven’t worn it again, since that night?” 

 

“Maybe once or twice,” Jyn says, begrudgingly. “Just because it’s warm.”

 

Cassian kisses her on the lips, firmly, and he can feel her smile as he does it. “Forget the gym,” he says. “Let’s go get breakfast, instead.”

 

“You and me?” Jyn asks, as if he could mean anyone else.

 

“Yeah. You and me,” he replies, and Jyn’s smile brightens. Then again, so does his.

 

**Wednesday, November 9, 1:48 AM**

 

They carry on like this for a while, making out in his office as though they’re no better than the drunk staffers currently looking for a darkened corner to hook up in, until Cassian, in his quest to get his hands literally all over Jyn in as little time as possible, feels his fingers glide over the teeth of the zipper on the back of her dress. He closes his hand around the pull and, without thinking, gives it a small tug, undoing the zipper just slightly. At that, both he and Jyn startle apart—although not terribly far—as if suddenly reminded that they’re still a work and they probably shouldn’t be doing  _ this _ in his office. At least, not when Jyn has a perfectly good apartment not far from there.

 

“You should go talk to Leia,” Jyn says, apropos of nothing. She looks disheveled in a way that makes Cassian feel distinctly proud of himself.

 

Of course, what she’s actually said baffles him. Why does he need to talk to Leia? What does she have to do with this? It’s only after he’s spent an embarrassingly long time thinking it over—maybe Jyn deserves to be proud of herself too—that he remembers he promised to congratulate Leia on her engagement before he left. Before he leaves with Jyn. And now he’s distracted again.

 

“Right,” he says, trying very hard to collect his thoughts. “You know she’s going to want to know about that kiss in the control room, though.”

 

“Tell her to mind her own business.”

 

“It  _ is _ her business, Jyn. You did it right in front of her. And everyone else we know.”

 

“I’m sorry, are you complaining?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Cassian replies, immediately, and Jyn must be pleased by this answer, because she leans in to kiss him again, briefly.

 

“I’m going to change,” she says, gesturing at her clothing, which is still what she wore on air. Cassian’s eyes follow her hands and when he finally drags his eyes upward, she’s looking at him pityingly. “I’ll meet you by the elevators?” She suggests.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Alright. Don’t change your mind,” she says, and for all she’s trying to make a joke, he can see that she’s a little worried about it.

 

“I won’t,” he says, and kisses her as reassurance. “Not with you.”

 

“Okay,” she says, quietly. Then she pulls back, and leaves, and it only takes a split second, once she’s opened the door to his office, for the sounds of the party still raging on in the bullpen to reach them.

 

Left to his own devices, Cassian takes a minute to collect himself. He runs a hand through his hair in the hopes that no one will be able to tell he’s just been making out with Jyn in his office. Then he remembers that his shirt is wrinkled from Jyn grabbing at it and there’s probably no way to hide what he’s been up to from anyone. He rubs a hand over his face, just for the sake of it, and decides he might just have to live with people gossiping about him. It’ll be well worth the trouble, he thinks, if it means getting to kiss Jyn whenever he feels like it.

 

Concerns about his disheveled appearance put aside, Cassian finally grabs his keys and his wallet from his desk and puts on his coat to leave. He tries to think of anything else he might need and fails, because rational thought left with Jyn and probably won’t return until she’s back in his arms. Even that might be an optimistic estimate on his part, honestly. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts, which only kind of works, and decides not to hate himself for being happy, just this once.

 

Heading back out into the bullpen himself, Cassian winces at the noise and the light. Someone—a misguided intern, he hopes—is blasting “Party in the USA” and he’s very glad to be on his way out. Weaving through the crowd of celebrating staffers, he keeps an eye out for Han and Leia. He ultimately finds them exactly where he left them, still in the middle of the room and at the center of all the activity.

 

As he approaches them, he claps Chirrut, who’s standing nearby, on the shoulder and gets a pat on the hand for his troubles. Baze, standing across from them and watching this, gives him a nod and a slightly scrutinizing glance that Cassian does his best not to over-analyze. He doesn’t stop to talk, either, because he’s on a mission.

 

The crowd around Han and Leia has thinned significantly since his last trip through the bullpen, which is good for Cassian’s purposes of making this quick and heading out. The only person talking to them now is Amilyn but it doesn’t look like Cassian is interrupting an intense conversation. The three of them seem to be chatting easily, while also looking for all the world like they’d like nothing more than to go to bed.

 

Amilyn has her back mostly turned to Cassian, but she’s still somehow the first to notice him, probably because Han just said something quietly to Leia and they’re now having a whispered conversation amongst themselves. 

 

“Hey, there you are,” Amilyn says, smiling blearily at him. “I haven’t seen you since we went off the air.”

 

It’s a sign of the late hour and her level of intoxication that Amilyn leans in gives Cassian a one-armed hug and a half-hearted kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his cheek. They’re not normally casually affectionate people. Or maybe he’s not. But it’s apparently a night for new things, he thinks, as he puts a hand on her back to help her stay upright.

 

“Yeah, it’s been…madness,” Cassian says, struggling for a word that covers what kind of night it’s been. “I’m just about to head home, actually. Wanted to say goodbye to everyone first.”

 

“Aw, that’s nice,” Amilyn replies, airily, probably because she’s drunk.

 

“Yes, well, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Or today. Whichever it is,” he says, and Leia groans.

 

“Don’t remind me,” she says, closing her eyes. Han rubs her shoulder absently.

 

“Sorry,” Cassian says, offering everyone a rueful smile. “And, of course, congratulations to you two,” he adds, awkwardly, and holds out a hand to Han.

 

Han shakes his hand. “Thanks, man,” he says, and it’s probably for the millionth time that night, but he still sounds genuine. The little smile he flashes at Leia immediately afterwards definitely is, that’s for sure.

 

When Han lets go of his hand, Cassian turns his attention to Leia, who’s looking back at him warily. He smiles at that, at her, and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

 

Ever since that night at the bar, things have been easier with Leia than with almost anyone else. They seem to have reached a new level of understanding, after that talk they had. Maybe that’s why her sudden engagement to Han threw him off so much: it felt like something she would have gotten drunk and ranted to him about first before she made a decision. But, then again, maybe the fact that she didn’t have to do that is a sign of growth. Maybe they’re all moving up in the world.

 

Leia responds to him immediately, stepping out of Han’s embrace to throw her arms around Cassian’s neck, all pretense of wariness abandoned. 

 

“Congratulations,” Cassian says, quietly enough that hopefully only Leia really hears him.

 

“Thank you,” she replies, just as softly.

 

“If he so much as puts a foot out of line, let me know. I’ll take care of him for you,” he says, and Leia snorts.

 

“I can handle him myself, thank you,” she says, pulling back and giving Han a look over her shoulder. “But I appreciate the offer.”

 

“Anything for you.”

 

Leia gives him a searching look at that, as if she’s trying to figure out if he really means it. He does, and he’s sure it shows, but it’s still alarming when Leia’s eyes widen in discovery. Surely she can’t be  _ that _ surprised at his sincerity.

 

“Jyn found you, I take it,” she says, and Cassian thinks she’s referring to Jyn twisting his arm to congratulate her on the engagement until Leia presses the pad of her thumb to the corner of his mouth. When she pulls it away, there’s an incriminating red smudge across her fingertip. Clearly, he didn’t do as well at making himself presentable as he’d thought.

 

“Uh, yes,” he says, wiping his mouth to remove any final remains of lipstick that might still be there while still trying to be subtle about it. “She did.”

 

Leia smiles triumphantly. “Thank God,” she says.

 

Over Leia’s shoulder, past Han and everyone else, Cassian can see Jyn, newly changed into jeans and a sweater, giving Bodhi a hug before she leaves. He’d clearly been having a conversation with Mon and Melshi, which he’d paused to say goodbye to Jyn. She laughs at something he says, and he gives a loose piece of her hair, which she can never successfully pull entirely back from her face, a quick tug in retaliation. Warmth blooms in Cassian’s chest at the sight of her looking so relaxed and happy, at knowing that they’re all going to keep working together, at the idea that he’s leaving with her in just a few minutes. 

 

It occurs to Cassian, then, that he’s just lost almost a full minute looking at her and he should turn his attention back to Leia, even if it means dealing with how smug she’s bound to be about the whole thing. When he actually does drag his eyes away from Jyn, Leia is looking at him with such obvious delight, it might actually be worse than if she were smug about it.

 

“‘Thank God’ is how I felt about it too,” he says, honestly, despite how badly he wants to get out of this conversation.

 

“I can’t believe you two are finally getting your shit together,” Leia says, shaking her head. “And right when I’m getting my shit together, too. You’re really horning in on my moment, which is very rude of you.”

 

“Don’t think of it like that,” Cassian says. “Think of it more as us getting our shit together as an engagement present to you. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

 

“Well, I do like the part where it’s all about me,” Leia says, jokingly.

 

“I thought you might.”

 

“So, are you two—?”

 

“Goodnight, Leia,” Cassian says, cutting her off and giving her shoulders a squeeze before stepping back. 

 

“Fine. Goodnight,” Leia says, taking the hint and sidling up to Han again.

 

Cassian manages to extract himself without giving anything further away, although he can tell Leia wants to know every detail of what happened. She will probably end up bullying the full story out of Jyn tomorrow anyway, and that spares Cassian having to tell Amilyn and Han anything about his personal life. For Amilyn’s part, she probably doesn’t want to know and, for Han’s, Cassian would rather not give him any more information than he needs. If either of them notice anything strange going on with Leia and Cassian, they don’t comment on it, being happy enough to wish him a goodnight and return to their conversation.

 

He doesn’t talk to anyone else on his way out of the offices and to the elevators, just waving goodbye to Bodhi, and catching Finn’s eye as he’s leaving the room. Finn has the audacity to toast Cassian with his new glass of champagne, and wherever Rey is, he’s sure she has one too. Cassian shakes his head in disapproval, for all he doesn’t actually care what the interns do on their own time. But he has a reputation as a grouch to uphold with them, so he plays along.

 

He’s nervously fussing with the collar on his coat, trying to get it to lie flat, as he comes into the elevator bay. Jyn is already there waiting for him, which was to be expected after he did his last glance around the bullpen and didn’t see her anywhere. She’s not looking in his direction, as she’s apparently been distracted by something on her phone, and it buys him a minute to take in the sight of her, uninterrupted.

 

He has always preferred her in casual clothes, like the ones she’s wearing now. He knows it’s partly that, out of the Armani suits and Prada dresses, she looks less intimidating to him. But, rationally speaking, regardless of what she’s wearing, she’s always out of his league. She’s got two PhDs and countless IQ points on him, and really that’s not even scratching the surface of everything he admires about her. 

 

Maybe it’s just that he knows that this is how she’d dress all the time, if she could; that the sleek wardrobe ACN chooses for her makes her vaguely uncomfortable; that it’s all part of her newscaster persona that she’s anxious to slip out of at the end of each day. And it’s much easier to imagine her in his home, in his real life, dressed like this, than in what she usually wears on air. She looks comfortable, unguarded, right now, and he wants to get used to seeing her like this.

 

Jyn turns her attention away from her phone when she hears Cassian’s approaching footsteps. She gives him a small, almost embarrassed, smile, probably at being caught texting. 

 

“Hi,” she says, sounding weary and relieved at the same time.

 

“Hi.” And naturally, this is where he’s going to falter. It’s not the big moments, like telling her how he feels or kissing her for the first time, that are going to screw him up—although, it’s not like he handled those perfectly either—it’s going to be this. Just talking to her, being casual about this now that he’s told her he loves her.

 

This is, actually, what worries him the most. He can be romantic, he thinks, when he really puts his mind to it. He can do the whole big speech to win her over, because this is ACN and they don’t hire anybody who can’t improvise an inspirational speech at a moment’s notice. He can be eloquent with the best of them, goddammit, but he’s not sure he can be someone’s boyfriend, or whatever the hell it is that Jyn wants. 

 

And they’re not insecure twentysomethings who are going to do the whole low-stakes, keep-it-casual bullshit. At least, he hopes not. But he’s never been good at the everyday parts of a committed relationship; he’s too good at being on his own and probably too set in his ways to ever change. Is it really fair to expect that things can be different just because it’s Jyn this time? Sure, he’s closer to her than he is to anyone else, but is it enough?

 

“What’s the matter?” Jyn asks, brow furrowing with concern. Some of his anxiety must be visible on his face, he realizes. “You look like you’re trying to do multiplication in your head.”

 

“I can do math in my head,” Cassian says, offended. “Easily.”

 

“ _ Okay _ ,” Jyn says, clearly patronizing him, and just like that, the worry is gone as soon as it appeared. The fact that it’s her is what’s going to make this easier, what’s going to make it worth it, not what’s going to make it harder. 

 

“So, what’s wrong?” She asks, interrupting this revelation.

 

“Nothing,” he says, and suddenly it’s true. He offers her a tentative smile. “Nothing is wrong.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jyn’s hands flutter anxiously for a moment between them, as if she wants to reach out for him. She must ultimately decide against it, because she shakes her head and turns away to press the button to call an elevator instead.

 

The doors to one of the elevators slide open with a soft  _ ding _ and Jyn gets on without glancing over at Cassian, so he follows her silently. He briefly considers taking her hand in his, but decides not to on the grounds that they’re not fifteen years old and thus she probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

 

As the doors close behind them and Jyn hits the button for the lobby, the uncertainty he accidentally created between them is palpable. They’re practically in separate corners of the elevator and the silence is unbearable.

 

Jyn clears her throat, awkwardly, before she says, “I know you said you wouldn’t change your mind—”

 

“I haven’t,” Cassian interrupts.

 

“But  _ if you had _ —”

 

“Jyn, I haven’t changed my mind. I promise,” he says, leaning into the space between them to look her in the eye.

 

“Because you can. I was kidding earlier. You can always change your mind. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

 

“That’s very kind of you,” he says, and she scowls at him. “But I haven’t changed my mind.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Absolutely certain. And you?”

 

“Me?” Jyn blinks at him in astonishment. “Of course I haven’t. Do I seem like I have?”

 

“No, I just wanted us both to be sure, and on the same page about it, before I do what I’m about to do.”

 

Jyn looks at him expectantly, and maybe a little pityingly. “What are you going to do?” She asks, exasperated.

 

Rather than answer her with words, Cassian crosses over to her corner of the elevator, and puts both of his hands on the railing, on either side of her body. When their eyes meet, she smiles back at him.

 

“Oh, that,” she says, as if she’s completely disinterested, but her eyes sparkle with laughter and she’s already looking at his lips.

 

Rather than let her get another smartass comment in, Cassian leans in and kisses her firmly on the mouth. To his great relief, her hand immediately comes up to cradle his cheek, so at least she’s not feigning boredom anymore. Maybe this will just never get old, he thinks: the feeling of wrapping his arms around her and kissing her like there’s nothing more important in the entire world. Carried away by it, and trying to appreciate the moment they’re in rather than worrying about the future, Cassian presses in closer and wraps an arm around her waist, so that he can answer for himself the question of whether her sweater is as soft to the touch as it looks.

 

He doesn’t get to answer any other burning questions he might have, though, before there’s a soft  _ ding _ that’s followed by the low, heavy noise of the elevator doors sliding open. The noise is enough to pull Cassian and Jyn out of the moment they were sharing and into the present, where they are still in an elevator at their place of work. They have just enough warning to make themselves presentable before the doors part to reveal Rose, bundled in a down jacket and looking world-weary. She blinks in surprise when she sees them, now standing side-by-side but still suspiciously close together and flushed for two people just innocently hanging out in an elevator.

 

Rose steps through the doors and looks around, confused. She then presses the ground floor button on the panel to her left, and looks back at them with even more confusion clouding her features.

 

“You know you have to hit the button before it’ll go anywhere, right?” She asks, and it’s clear that the only thing she’s suspicious of is their intellects.

 

“Oh, that explains it,” Cassian says, mildly. Jyn covers her mouth to disguise her laugh as a cough. 

 

Rose turns away from them, but only after she’s given them another unimpressed look. She pulls out her phone and clearly plans to ignore them until they reach the lobby. Cassian is fine with that, as a plan. In fact, he’s thrilled with it, when Jyn chooses that moment to slip her hand back into his and they finish their elevator ride in painfully awkward silence.

 

**Saturday, November 12, 10:30 PM**

 

Jyn lets them into her apartment clumsily, appearing to trip over the threshold. Cassian thinks she’s a little bit drunk, even though she only had two glasses of wine at dinner. He puts his hands on her hips, to steady her and also just because he wants to.

 

He’s spent the better part of this week thinking about this, about being alone with her and finally getting to touch her. It’s taken a lot of self-control to refrain even this long, but they’d agreed, after everything that happened on Election Night, to take things slow, if for no other reason than it would help them keep their relationship a secret at work. For now, at least. But waiting until the weekend when they both had time to go out on a real date had been more of a struggle than Cassian had anticipated. And, as nice as dinner was, he likes it better when it’s just the two of them alone.

 

She turns in his arms, and waves a hand at him. “I’m fine,” she says, but she looks overwhelmed.

 

“You’re a lightweight,” Cassian says, full of affection.

 

“I’m not,” she says, stubbornly. She puts a hand on his shoulder for balance while she slips off her shoes. “I want water. Do you want water?” She asks, when she’s done so successfully.

 

“I’m fine,” he says.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Completely.”

 

“I have good water. I mean, like, this part of the city does.”

 

“I believe you,” Cassian says, trying not to laugh. “I just don’t want any.”

 

Jyn frowns. “Okay,” she says, like she doesn’t quite believe him. She heads for the kitchen, leaving him standing by the door, and he’s already regretting the loss of contact. “Sit down,” she calls over her shoulder as she goes. “Relax.”

 

Cassian watches her as she moves around the kitchen, finding a glass, and fixing things she finds amiss as she goes. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to relax,” he says, letting his voice carry.

 

Jyn emerges from the kitchen with her glass of water, just as he’s sitting on the couch. She frowns as she takes a sip. “Who, me?” She asks.

 

“Yes, you.”

 

“I’m—” She stops herself mid-objection. “I’m a little nervous,” she admits, before taking a seat on the coffee table across from him. She puts the glass down next to her, and Cassian gets distracted by the way her skirt hikes up just a bit when she crosses her legs. He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning into her space, and she mirrors his movements. 

 

She hasn’t even taken off her coat yet and there’s something about her, perched on the table in her black dress and bare feet and oversized coat that’s making him nervous too. No, it’s not nerves, not really, so much as anticipation. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long that it surprises him that he’s not more anxious. What he really feels is ready, and that makes him want to text Leia and rub it in her face that he was right to take his time. He doesn’t, though. He’s got better things to do.

 

He’d made fun of her—Jyn, that is—for the coat, at dinner. It’s too big for her, drowning her small frame. But she’d found it in the men’s section of a vintage store in the East Village and loved it so much she didn’t even care that it was a few sizes too big. She wears it whenever she goes out, she had told him, arguing it’s a classic black peacoat and it makes her look more dressed up than she actually is, most of the time. He’d told her that the other people in the restaurant probably thought it was his coat, and she’d said that was just another benefit. It had made his throat go dry.

 

He only had one glass of wine at dinner, but his thoughts are still muddled. It might be her. No, it definitely is.

 

“Don’t be nervous,” he says to her, now.

 

“Aren’t you?” 

 

“A little,” he admits.

 

“How come you get to be nervous but I don’t?” Jyn asks. 

 

“Good point. Neither of us should be nervous. We’ve spent enough time being nervous about this,” Cassian says, and then follows it by picking up her glass from the table and taking a drink.

 

“I  _ just _ asked you if you wanted water,” Jyn says, exasperated.

 

“I didn’t realize I wanted it until it was in front of me,” he says, with a shrug.

 

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” She asks, brow furrowed.

 

“No. I don’t think so,” he says, then reconsiders. “I don’t know.”

 

Jyn holds out a hand, silently asking for the glass back, and he hands it over. She takes a drink and replaces the glass on the table. “You’re just gonna stare at me?” She asks, when she’s done.

 

“Not  _ just _ ,” Cassian says, smiling at her. 

 

She laughs at that and leans back, putting her palm on the table to keep her balance. “Are we really already out of things to say to each other?” She asks, suddenly. “We haven’t even slept together yet!”

 

“Technically—”

 

“Hey. Don’t start with me.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“This is why we should have had sex before we went out to dinner,” Jyn says, looking gloomily into her glass of water.

 

“That would have defeated the purpose,” Cassian replies, stuck somewhere between amused and alarmed. 

 

“And what was that purpose again?”

 

“Tradition.”

 

“Ah,” she says, unimpressed.

 

“And the reason we have nothing to say right now is not because we are  _ literally _ out of things to say to one another,” he continues, and she looks even less impressed, somehow. “It’s  _ because _ we haven’t slept together.”

 

“We have nothing to talk about because we haven’t had sex yet?”

 

“Yes. And not doing that immediately is taking up space in our minds where topics of conversation normally would be.”

 

“You’re saying that you’re so busy focusing on not fucking me that you can’t actually concentrate on talking to me?” Jyn asks, thoroughly delighted.

 

“That’s not exactly what I mean, but you got the general idea, yes.”

 

“Men are idiots,” she says, shaking her head. “And you know you could just...fuck me. Right?”

 

“I do know that,” Cassian says, and he reaches forward to take her glass again, but she gets there first and takes a drink herself. “I just haven’t figured out how yet.”

 

“What do you need? A diagram? A treasure map?” She snaps her fingers, as though inspired. “There’s gotta be a wikiHow article for this.”

 

“It’s a big moment,” he says, ignoring her.

 

“We already had the big moment. Several, in fact. We talked about feelings a lot, if I recall correctly.”

 

“It doesn’t feel monumental to you? Like a huge step?”

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but no,” Jyn says, with a jerky shrug. “The other stuff, talking about how I feel, that’s what scares me. By comparison, sleeping with you is going to be easy.”

 

He laughs in spite of himself, and rubs his hands together in a nervous gesture he barely recognizes. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“A few weeks ago, after you had that argument with Han, when we were talking about the auction and Draven interrupted us, what happened?”

 

Jyn’s shoulders tense up and the relaxed posture that came from having a few glasses of wine and a mostly stress-free night out is now gone. Her eyes find the floor. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she says, folding her arms in towards her middle protectively.

 

Cassian reaches out a hand to lay it on her knee, hoping to inspire her to look up at him. She doesn’t, but she does look at his hand curiously. “I was trying to tell you how I felt,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “I wanted to, but you shut me out.”

 

It’s not meant as an accusation, but Jyn reacts as if it is, wincing away from his words. “You’re upset with me?” She asks, sounding impossibly young.

 

“No, I’m not,” Cassian hurries to say, and he turns the hand on her knee so it’s resting palm up on her leg, in the hopes that she’ll put her hand in his. After a moment, she does, and lets out a shaky breath. “I just wonder why you weren’t ready then, but you seem so sure now, he says.

 

“I knew what you were going to say, that night,” she says, cautiously. “Maybe not exactly, but I could tell what your intentions were. And I stopped you because I didn’t want you to say those things because you were jealous—and of some hypothetical rich guy from a charity auction, no less. I couldn’t take the idea that you would say you had feelings for me just because you didn’t want me to be with someone else. I needed it to be real.

 

“If it helps,” Jyn continues, “I felt stupid the moment I walked out of that room. For assuming that you wouldn’t have meant it, if I’d let you say what you wanted to say. That’s not who you are. I know that. And when I found out you bought the book, I felt even more stupid. I should have known better. You deserve more credit than that.”

 

“It’s not like I was always perfectly straightforward with you about my feelings,” Cassian says, tightening his grip on her hand.

 

“That’s true. I guess we’re both pretty stupid,” she says, finally looking up and giving him a small smile.

 

“Speaking as someone who’s currently working his way through your book, I have to disagree with that statement, at least as it applies to you.”

 

Jyn’s face lights up. “You’re actually reading it?”

 

“Of course I am. What sort of question is that?”

 

“How far have you gotten?”

 

“Like five pages,” Cassian admits, and Jyn covers her mouth to hide her startled laughter.

 

“Oh, honey,” she says, rubbing her thumb over the knuckles of his hand that she’s holding in a soothing, pitying gesture at odds with the amusement on her face.

 

“It’s not my fault,” he replies. “I keep trying to read more of it, but I can hear the text in your voice in my head and it sounds like you’re lecturing me on some obscure topic of economics you’re annoyed I’ve never heard of before and then I get distracted.”

 

“Because you’re bored?” Jyn asks, looking genuinely concerned. As if she’s worried he’s going to leave a negative review for her book on Amazon or something.

 

“No, Jyn,” he says, smiling, “not because I’m bored…”

 

She squints at him in confusion for a moment before her face clears with comprehension. She takes her hand out of his and covers her face with it. “Right,” she says, muffled. “You like it when I’m pedantic.”

 

“That’s not the word I’d use—”

 

“You were trying to be smooth just now.”

 

“And doing a great job of it, clearly,” Cassian says, leaning back on the couch.

 

“No, you are,” Jyn says, leaning forward to take his hand in hers again briefly. “I’m just...I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like that about me before.”

 

“How smart you are?”

 

“I guess,” she says, lifting a shoulder in uncertainty. “I mean, nobody likes feeling stupid, which I’ve been told I can do sometimes. Some people are intimidated by my intelligence.”

 

“I could see that, sure.”

 

“But you don’t feel that way?” Jyn asks, giving him a searching look as she does so. It’s clear that this is more of a sore subject than she’s letting on, and Cassian considers his answer accordingly.

 

“I’m intimidated by you in a good way,” he says, finally. “I love how smart you are, and how passionate you are about the subjects you’re an expert on, and that you can explain those things clearly to other people. And that you choose to use your intelligence for that purpose. I like to think you inspire me to be better.”

 

Jyn blinks at him, overwhelmed. She looks down at her hands, which she has folded in her lap. “The feeling is mutual.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes, of course,” she says, looking up at his incredulous tone. “I’m a better journalist, and person, because of your influence. And I’m happier, with you, than I’ve been with anyone else, too.”

 

Cassian’s throat goes dry at that, but it seems like the wrong moment to try to steal her water again. “It’s only been a few days,” he starts to say, but Jyn cuts him off.

 

“Still,” she says, and tries to hand him the glass of water, as if she could read his mind. Or hear how choked his voice sounds, which is a lot more likely.

 

He leans forward to take it, but once he’s got it in his hand, he leans past Jyn to put it in the far corner of the table, where it will be out of their way and in no danger of getting knocked over. She gives him a puzzled look in response, which he sees right before he pulls back and puts his hands on her waist. He kisses her, softly, and her hands come up to frame his face. 

 

It only takes a minute of this for both of them to realize, independently, that this is not the most comfortable position they could be in, at the moment. Jyn is the one who decides to remedy the situation first, though, when she pushes Cassian back firmly onto the couch and then follows him, breaking their kiss just long enough to drop into his lap. He wastes no time, once she’s settled, in sliding her coat off her shoulders and down her arms. He replaces his hands on her waist and pulls her in close.

 

When she pulls away after a few moments, and looks down at him, holding onto him by the back of his neck, he worries, a little, that something is wrong; that something else had cropped up to delay this any further. Jyn must see that worry on his face, because she delicately smooths down his hair where she recently ran her fingers through it, and he feels himself relax.

 

“What is it?” He asks, quietly. As if speaking too loudly will disturb this moment between them.

 

“Nothing. I just—” She stops herself, clearly thinking over what she wants to say. “The thing you need to know about the German economy in the 1920s is—”

 

Jyn pauses when Cassian laughs and buries his face in her neck. Realizing she might take this as a rejection, he kisses under her jaw. “Go on,” he says, against her skin. “I’m listening.”

 

Jyn laughs before she continues what she was saying, and Cassian honestly can’t remember why he was ever nervous about this. 

 

**Wednesday, November 9, 2:12 AM**

 

Rose is the first out of the elevator, not even sparing a glance over her shoulder at them as she takes off. Cassian gives her a thirty second head start and then tugs Jyn forward by their joined hands so they can also leave, without potentially exposing their co-worker to any more of their antics.

 

“Poor Rose,” Jyn says, as they cross the lobby, hand-in-hand. “She felt really bad about signing the book in my name when she heard how much you paid for it.”

 

“You told her it was me?”

 

“Oh. No. She just knew someone paid a lot of money for her forgery. I didn’t tell her about you, once I found out. She’d really think we’re idiots, if she knew that part.”

 

“And she’d be right,” Cassian says, as he pushes open the door to the building and the cold night air hits them like a punch. They step out onto the sidewalk and Cassian isn’t sure what to do next.

 

“I don’t actually know where you live,” he says, when they’ve stood in silence for a few seconds.

 

“Oh,” Jyn says, and looks around as if she doesn’t know where they are. “Well, it’s close.”

 

“Do you want to walk?” He asks, glancing at what she’s wearing, which notably doesn’t include a jacket. He fights the urge to comment on this questionable decision on her part.

 

She must notice him looking, though, because she smiles like she’s embarrassed. “Not particularly,” she admits.

 

“Alright, so, let’s get a cab.”

 

“Do you mind if we walk a block or two before we do?” Jyn asks, looking at the ground uncomfortably.

 

“Why?”

 

“I just try not to get taxis right outside the Alliance building. The drivers are a lot less likely to recognize me, if they don’t pick me up  _ right here _ ,” she says, gesturing at the building behind them, with its blaring LED lights proclaiming the headlines out into the night.

 

Cassian blinks as he takes a moment to process this new information. Obviously, he knew Jyn was famous. She was decently famous in certain circles before she even started working at ACN, having grown up the daughter of somewhat infamous political operatives. But now, she’s on TV at least twice a day and, moreover, she’s a beautiful, opinionated woman whose field of expertise just happens to be one largely dominated by men. She must get a lot of attention when she’s in public, although Cassian has never put a great deal of thought into how much it must affect her.

 

He remembers, suddenly, a day, years ago now, when he’d walked into her office to find her mid-rant at Bodhi as she read an article about herself aloud to him.

 

“I had dinner with my godfather and it ended up in the gossip pages!” She was shouting as she gestured emphatically at the newspaper she was holding. “TMZ, Page Six, People Magazine. All covered it. The news event of me going to a restaurant with a relative. That’s crazy.”

 

“Not to knock your celebrity status, Jyn, but I think they were only there to see if Saw would do anything crazy this time,” Bodhi had said, laughing. He gave Cassian a nod as he came into the room.

 

“Well, he didn’t, for once, which left them with no choice but to cover how cheap my outfit was,” Jyn said, tossing the newspaper aside dramatically.

 

“This is what you get for being such a rising star,” Bodhi said, and Jyn rolled her eyes at him, before turning her attention to Cassian. 

 

They barely knew each other back then, but even so, Cassian knew she was attractive and that he had to be careful around her. The full force of her attention on him, with her face flushed from her tirade and her eyes bright from joking around with Bodhi, had been a lot to take in at once.

 

“You need him?” She asked, then, and Cassian hadn’t been able to figure out her meaning.

 

“What?” He’d asked, trying to hide how caught off-guard he was.

 

“Bodhi?” She replied. “That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

 

“Oh, no. Sorry,” he said, putting himself back together. “I was looking for you.”

 

“Me? What for?”

 

“I need you to cover for Draven on his show tonight. Mon already approved it,” he said, before she could object.

 

“You want me to host the show?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The entire show?”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

“I can’t do what Draven does,” she’d said, finding a way to object anyway. “I’m an economist.”

 

“You’re expanding your repertoire,” Cassian had said, and Bodhi had smiled at that, and at the frown that Jyn gave in response.

 

“Why me?” Jyn had asked, hopelessly.

 

“Why not you?” When that didn’t satisfy her, he added, “You’re my first and only choice. Mon agreed, she thinks you’ll do great.”

 

Jyn had thought it over for a few moments, before exchanging a look with Bodhi, the meaning of which was lost on Cassian. “You just want me to host your show because I’m a huge celebrity that TMZ cares about now,” she’d said, finally, her accent coming out more clipped and proper when she tried to make fun of herself.

 

“That’s exactly it. I saw that piece where they said you looked like a cheap hooker and I said, ‘That’s who I need to fill in for Draven,’” Cassian replied.

 

“You read the article?” Jyn asked, horrified.

 

“Of course. I had to know who I was getting into bed with.” At her shocked expression, he hurried to add, “Metaphorically speaking.”

 

“Great.”

 

“So you’ll do it?”

 

“I guess,” Jyn answered, with a shrug.

 

“Perfect. I love the enthusiasm,” he said, and she shot him a dirty look. He was about to leave her office when he’d suddenly turned and, for no other reason than to see how she’d react, added, “And for what it’s worth, I thought you looked like a really  _ expensive _ hooker in those photos. If that helps.”

 

Jyn’s reaction hadn’t disappointed. She had flipped him off as he left her office, and he saw Bodhi stifling a laugh out of the corner of his eye. It’s strange to think about that conversation at the beginning of his relationship with Jyn, now that he’s standing with her outside the ACN building. Now that they’re together and they’re really going to try to make it work. 

 

“What is it?” Jyn asks him, seeming to sense that his mind is elsewhere.

 

“Nothing. You just reminded me of the first time we worked together. When you started covering Draven’s shows when he was out.”

 

“Let’s not talk about that,” she says, playing with her hair with her free hand. “It was a disaster, the first time. And a few times after that.”

 

“I was thinking about how I asked you to do it, actually.”

 

“You said I looked like a prostitute, if I remember correctly.”

 

“I was just teasing you.”

 

“I know,” Jyn says. “Bodhi made fun of me constantly after that.”

 

“Wait, really?”

 

“Not about looking like a prostitute, which is a pathetic diss to begin with,” she replies. “About you.”

 

“What about me?” Cassian asks, perplexed.

 

“Just that you were flirting with me, and trying to flatter me to get me to do the show. Any time I filled in for Draven, he would ask me what you said to convince me. It used to drive me crazy,” Jyn says, and she’s looking away from him again.

 

“To be fair, I was flirting with you, but my motivation wasn't nearly as professional as Bodhi gave me credit for,” he says, and he’s satisfied to see a blush creeping up Jyn’s neck.

 

“That’s how you flirt with girls? Calling them hookers?” She asks, but she sounds amused.

 

“That’s not all I said to you,” he replies, looking down at her hand that he’s holding. When she doesn’t immediately take the bait, he adds, “You’ve already told me you remember, Jyn.”

 

She sighs, heavily, as if he’s really tormenting her with this question. “You said I was your first and only choice,” she says, quietly, after a moment.

 

“You still are, for the record,” Cassian says, and brings her hand up to kiss it. “Now, where are we going to get a cab?”

 

“This way.” Jyn gestures with their clasped hands, and they walk a few blocks away from the ACN building in companionable silence.

 

When she’s decided they’re far enough away, Jyn steps out to the curb to hail them a taxi and one pulls over almost immediately. Getting into the car necessitates them letting go of each other’s hands, and Cassian is pretty sure that, given Jyn’s discomfort with being recognized, she’s also not going to want to hold hands with him, or otherwise act like a couple, while they’re in the company of the taxi driver. Although, since they’re going to the same address and it’s after two in the morning, he can’t imagine what the driver could think they are, besides a couple. Still, Cassian is surprised when Jyn finishes telling the driver her address and she leans back in the seat and takes his hand in hers again. She’s flush against him, despite how much space there is in the back seat, and he can feel the warmth of her thigh pressed up against his. 

 

He finds himself wondering if it’s possible to have a deep sense memory for something you’ve never experienced before, but that you know someday you will have experienced a thousand times. Is it possible for something to feel familiar even as it’s happening for the first time? To know so clearly and certainly that something or someone is your future, that you’re almost nostalgic for what’s to come? That’s how being pressed into a corner of a cab with Jyn feels, like every cab he’s in by himself from now on is going to seem empty by comparison. Like her curled up against him as close as possible even though she’s worried about what of her personal life ends up in Page Six and gripping his hand with almost uncomfortable pressure feels more like home than his apartment in Queens ever will ever again.

 

The combination of her tight grip on his hand and how she has begun bobbing her leg up and down alerts Cassian to the fact that Jyn is nervous. He’s not really sure why, aside from the fact that they’re a lot alike and the magnitude of what they’re doing keeps hitting him in waves and so he’s sure it’s doing the same to her. Deciding once and for all that he’s not afraid of whatever story this cabbie could possibly sell to the gossip rags—and being even more reassured that, even if that’s what happened, they’d have a hell of a time figuring out who he even is, because Cassian is certainly not on television several times a day, unlike Jyn—he leans back and kisses Jyn on the cheek.

 

She turns towards him, a little surprised but there’s amusement lurking around her features. Her nervous movements slow down, momentarily, but her grip doesn’t ease up on his hand. “What was that for?” She asks, at a whisper.

 

“Just wanted you to know I hadn’t changed my mind. Still.”

 

“Oh,” she says, and it’s really just an exhale of breath. “Good. Me neither.”

 

“Good,” he says. He looks ahead, then, and feels Jyn rest her head against his shoulder. He’s sure the nerves, the doubts, will come back, eventually. They always do. But they’ll enjoy the certainty while it lasts, and every time it comes back around, too.


End file.
